


Close the Door, Pull the Shades

by phantisma



Series: Vamp!Nate [1]
Category: Leverage
Genre: Biting, Bloodplay, M/M, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-19
Updated: 2009-03-03
Packaged: 2017-11-29 21:47:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 39,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/691840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantisma/pseuds/phantisma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eliot knows a secret that Nate keeps hidden, a secret that could lead to death, or to a relationship neither one of them had ever anticipated.  When a bad job sends Nate off the deep end, Eliot's attempts to bring him back without someone dying changes everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Somehow, this isn't what Eliot was expecting when he told Nate that he needed revenge, but maybe it should have been. He was the only one who knew, the only one who'd seen this side of the man.

"Nate." Eliot's voice is low and in Nate's ear from behind. They've both lost their earpieces in the fight. The smell of blood is in the air, some of it the mark's, some of it Eliot's…and if he can smell it, it must be twice as bad for Nate because it's got Nate just that much closer to gone.

Eliot's got a hand on Nate's chest, pulling him back. "It's enough."

"No." Nate growls it, and Eliot knows that if he really wants it, if Nate presses the issue, Eliot can't hold him.

"He's down, Nate. He's done."

Eliot turns, gets in front of Nate, tossing his hair back out of his face. Nate's eyes are dark, his brow ridges raised as the blood lust grows. He has to get Nate out of there before he does something he'll regret.

Eliot moves closer, pressing himself against Nate. The scratch down his neck is still bleeding and Eliot pulls his hair back, exposing the torn skin, letting the smell fill the small space between them, offering the blood, offering himself.

Nate licks his lips, giving Eliot just a flash of his teeth, sharp and dangerous. "Eliot."

It's a line they haven't crossed, though they've crossed a number of others. Eliot's eyes flash to their mark, who is climbing to his knees behind Nate. He needs to keep Nate distracted or he'll kill the man and that isn't what this was about.

Eliot fists a hand in Nate's hair and pulls him in, pressing his face in toward Eliot's neck. The first touch of tongue is hesitant, but Nate groans as the taste spreads over his tongue, and Eliot takes a step backward, knowing Nate would come with him now. He keeps them moving away from the bleeding man on the ground…keeps moving until Nate's restraint fails, and then Eliot just tries to keep from dying as Nate's fangs dig into his neck, Nate growling and drinking until Eliot's vision is swirling, his cock filling and coming in seconds without ever being touched.

Just before the dark swoops in on him, Eliot feels Nate pull back, sees his face, back to normal now, swimming over him. "Eliot! Damn it!"

 

 

 

"You shouldn't have done that."

He isn't fully awake, his body heavy, cold. Eliot opens his eyes slowly to find Nate sitting on the coffee table beside the couch where he is laying. Nate's watching him as though he might vanish…or maybe die. "I could have killed you."

Eliot's hand snakes up to his neck, finding thick bandages as memory floods him. The fight, the way Nate lost control, the way his face changed, the way he bit Eliot. Nate bit him. Nate was right, he could have died. Somehow he'd known that Nate wouldn't kill him though. Trusted him not to. "You didn't."

Nate's face softens a little as he runs a hand through his hair and looks away. "But a part of me wanted to."

Eliot sits up slowly, groaning as his cock rubs against wet denim and he remembers that too. Nate glances at him, at his crotch and Eliot blushes. "It's normal." Nate says softly, looking away again. "But Eliot…you don't know what you've done. Now that I've tasted you…"

Eliot reaches for him, turning Nate's worried face back to his. "So tell me."

Nate's eyes close and Eliot can almost feel his turmoil. "Once bitten, always near." Nate says quietly. "I'll get possessive, crave more. I'll want to taste you, keep you…"

Eliot's eyes trace his face as he smirks slow and easy. He leans in, kissing at the lines of worry on Nate's face. "See now? That doesn't sound so bad."

Nate stiffens, but doesn't quite pull away. It isn't the first time they've sat with one of them hurt and the other one fighting back guilt while caring for them. In fact, it wasn't that long ago right here on this couch in Nate's apartment that Eliot had discovered what Nate was. That time it had been Nate on the couch, Eliot playing nursemaid.

He'd be the first to admit he didn't handle it well at first. He knew enough about vampires to know that most of the time the act of turning them did more than change them physically, and the last one he'd run into in Bejing had been the most sadistic fuck Eliot had ever known.

And yet, he was still here. In fact, he'd grown protective, helping Nate keep his secret, guarding it as if it were his own and the bonding between them…well, this wasn't the first time they'd kissed, although usually Nate kissed him back.

Eliot sits back, frustrated. He'd been pushing to take this the next step, but Nate had always resisted. Eliot figured he was afraid of how Eliot would react if he lost control, but now that that was out of the way…

"It's not some damn romantic novel, Eliot." Nate says. "You don't want to be a part of this."

"You should let me be the judge of that." Eliot responds, reaching for him again.

Nate pulls away, stands, turns for the kitchen because Eliot can't understand what he's asking, what he's saying…what he's done…and Nate isn't sure he can explain, isn't sure he wants Eliot to understand.

Controlling himself has never been easy, especially around Eliot. The smell of him alone is enough on some days to undo him. He stalks away toward the kitchen, but Eliot doesn't give up easily, following Nate into the kitchen where he's pouring whiskey into a glass.

Nate can still taste him, the blood, hot and thick on his tongue…fire and sin and life his for the taking, temptation hovering a breathe away. Nate groans when Eliot touches him, the craving still fresh.

He'd only barely managed to stop himself before, when Eliot had bared his neck, when his weakness was stronger than his desire to keep Eliot safe and safely outside of this life. His fingers twitch around the glass and he lifts it, draining the alcohol to chase away the taste of Eliot in his mouth.

"I'm not afraid of you." Eliot says softly, a hand sliding into Nate's hair to turn his head.

It's a bad idea. Nate knows he should send Eliot away. Far away…but there's blood and whiskey burning inside him and he can feel the heat pouring off of Eliot, smell the sweat dried on his skin, taste the salt and copper and warmth…and it's late…so very late..

"You should be." Nate responds, all the warning he gives Eliot before he's closing the gap between them, taking his mouth, accepting what Eliot is offering, even if Eliot doesn't really know what that means.

Nate knows. Nate knows all too well, but once Eliot moans into his mouth, once his body bends pliant and calm under his hands, Nate is caught, trapped, his body filled with need that goes beyond blood. He wants, something that hasn't happened in so long he'd forgotten the feeling.

He hasn't had anyone since Maggie, since he'd nearly killed her because he couldn't control himself, and maybe he's learned some control since then, or learned how to use alcohol to blunt the need, but there isn't enough alcohol in the world right now, not with Eliot kissing him back and pushing him into the counter and shit… _shitdamnfuck_ Eliot tastes like sin, like his first after…well just after and he doesn't want to think of that, so he pushes Eliot back, puts his hands in Eliot's hair.

And maybe there's that touch of fear that might save them both, but Eliot swallows it down, lifts his chin, bares his throat. Nate can't…can't, won't…not so soon, so he licks instead, a long line up Eliot's neck, up to his chin and then he's back at his mouth again…and all it does is feed his desperation, his need.

His body is tight, hard…his cock straining, needing. Always bad after feeding, it's only worse with Eliot so there, so ready, so giving…and when Eliot's hands find his zipper, when Eliot's hands are inside his pants, Nate feels the last of his control slipping away.

He growls in warning, but damn Eliot isn't listening or doesn't care and Nate doesn't want to hurt him but if they don't slow this down he will….he'll take everything Eliot's giving and then everything else and when it's over…No. Nate pulls on the fistful of hair, hard enough that Eliot understands. Nate's teeth are clenched, fangs biting into his lip.

"I need you to see what you're getting into bed with." Nate grinds out, opening his mouth. He can taste salt and sweet, smell the pounding blood in Eliot's veins.

"I know what you are." Eliot responds, his hands lifting back to Nate's cock, but Nate tugs again, pulling him back.

"No. Look at me." Those eyes are nearly as intense as Nate's own as they rise to meet his. "You need to realize that if we do this, there's no going back."

Eliot lifts both hands to Nate's face, and the smell of blood is strong as he pulls Nate to him, kisses him deep, his tongue running over fangs until he draws blood…just a little…like a promise.

Nate can't think past _more now, fuck now_ and he's only barely aware of his hands ripping into Eliot's jeans, of pushing Eliot over the counter, but the heat…the heat of him as Nate sinks into him is incredible, nearly pushing him over the edge all by itself. Eliot's hand slams the counter in time to Nate's thrusting and even though it has to hurt, has to burn and then he's shoving back into Nate and all thought is gone.

The world goes dark as he comes, collapsing into Eliot, pressing him into the counter as Nate's knees buckle. Somehow Eliot keeps them up and standing, manages to get them moving and out of the kitchen, and the next thing Nate knows, he's curled up in his bed, the blinds closed up tight and curtains drawn to keep out the light and Eliot is in his arms, eyes already closed as sleep pulls him under.

 

 

Eliot is a little disoriented when he wakes in the dark. Light bleeds in around the blinds, so he knows it's day, but there's no other indication of time. The bed is empty, and he knows that when he crawled into it, Nate had been there. He slides out of the bed, pads through the house to the kitchen.

He blushes a little as he remembers, his ass clenching. Nate looks up from the table where he's setting down plates. "I don't need as much sleep."

Eliot nods, feeling somehow like he's trespassing, like maybe he should go.

As if sensing his thoughts, Nate catches Eliot's hand, pressing his lips into the palm, and Eliot might have called him on the girly action, but then Nate's tongue is on his skin, over the pulse in his wrist and Eliot can't even form words for a moment.

"Sit. Eat."

Eliot does as he's told, sliding into the chair, feeling strangely exposed in his boxers and nothing else. His stomach is growling and the smell of the steak on his plate is making it worse. "Eat." Nate says again as he sits, setting a glass beside his plate. Eliot's eyes dart from the glass to Nate, then down to his steak.

"After last night I figure you can handle it." Nate says quietly.

The air between them is different and Eliot kind of feels like he's playing a colossal game of catch up. He digs into the steak and potatoes so he won't have to figure out what to say, but Nate has that covered.

"I'm sorry if I hurt you. It's been a while." Nate sips at his glass and to Eliot's surprise cuts into his own steak, though his is significantly more rare than Eliot's. "You probably have a million questions and don't even know how to ask them."

True enough, but Eliot had done some research…and there was the bastard in Beijing. "You aren't my first—I mean you are---but—" Eliot closes his eyes and shakes his head. "I knew a man in China. He was…like you. Only not." Yeah, this is not exactly the way he'd wanted this conversation to go.

Nate nods slowly. "I know."

Eliot puts his fork down and looks at him. "You what?"

"It's in your file. Lo Chan Fen. He hurt you."

Eliot nods. "That's one way to look at it."

"He didn't feed on you though."

"No. Never did figure out why. He made sure I knew what he was."

"He was going to…I imagine anyway. He'd have liked to keep you."

Eliot isn't sure what that means, and Nate doesn't seem inclined to elaborate. "I escaped."

Nate eats quietly for a few minutes and after watching, Eliot returns to his own eating. He's starving and all the eating he is doing isn't really helping. Nate gets up and goes to the stove, coming back with another steak and putting it on his plate without even asking. "So maybe I should hit the highlights?"

He sits and drinks from his glass, wiping his mouth on a napkin. "It happened just before my son died. I was desperate. She told me I could save him and I believed her. By the time I had recovered enough from the turning, he was too far gone for anything I might have been able to do."

Nate's voice is thick with emotion and he doesn't look up, doesn't leave room for questions. "She didn't lie, it was just too late. I probably could have…but I was in Geneva and traveling gets difficult after the transition. I never saw her again."

He drinks the last of the blood in his glass and gets up to pace. "The first few years were difficult. The hunger is…incredible. Maggie…well, my leaving was the best thing I could have done for her. And before you have to ask, yes I have killed. The first one couldn't be helped. She brought him to me when I woke. That's a hunger you never want to know. After that there were two more. Would have been three if you weren't there last night."

Nate's hands fall on his shoulders. "Hell, it was almost you last night."

"I knew you would stop." Eliot says quietly.

"How? I didn't know if I could."

It's Eliot's turn to lift Nate's hand, pressing his lips to the palm the same way Nate had. "I did. I trusted you."

"Eliot Spencer trusting someone?" Nate asks softly, though the ending falls into a soft moan as Eliot's tongue slides over his skin.

"You. I trust you." Eliot stands, pulling Nate to him.

"Why?" Nate's voice is a whisper, his eyes glittering with specks of black that Eliot has come to recognize as the beginning of his change. "Why would you trust me?"

"Because you're a good man." Eliot responds, kissing him. The world tilts under him and Nate's hand on his shoulder is the only thing that keeps him from falling.

"Easy. I drained you pretty good last night, and then there was the whole sex thing. You need to get your strength back." Nate holds the chair for him, like they're on a date and it makes Eliot smirk. "You're going to need to learn to take better care of yourself." Nate slides into his own chair. "Or one of these times it will be too much for you."

Eliot raises an eyebrow and chews on his steak. "One of these times…meaning we're going to do that again?"

Nate rolls his eyes. "I meant what I said, Eliot. Once bitten, always near. If you want out, you'll have to leave. The country. I'd eventually get over the craving once I couldn't smell you…but as long as I can, I'll go crazy if I can't have you."

"Wait, you can smell me?"

Nate's eyes close and a look comes over his face. Eliot's seen that look sometimes, but never knew what it meant. "Stronger now. You're inside of me."

Eliot snorts at that. "I recall it was you inside of me. I'm all over your kitchen cabinets."

"Funny." Nate lifts his glass in salute, but it's empty so he takes it to the sink instead. "But I'm serious."

"I'm not going anywhere." Eliot promises.

Nate's fingers thread through his hair and pulls his head back. His kiss is nearly savage, and when he pulls back his eyes are more black than before. "When you're done eating, take a shower, relax, sleep. I'll be back in a few hours. I have business to deal with."

"I could come with—" Eliot starts to stand, but Nate pushes him back into the chair.

"You need to eat. I'll bring you back some vitamins. You should start taking them. You need to get enough sleep, eat right. I don't want to kill you slow any more than I want to do it fast because I can't control myself. I'll be back."

The kiss on his forehead is far more gentle, and then Nate is gone and Eliot is alone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eliot and Nate deal with the aftermath of what happened between them, with some surprises for both of them along the way.

There's a dark that comes in the hour after midnight. It's deeper, quieter than any other dark in the whole space of sunset to sunrise. Nate's out there in it, under the moon and Eliot can only wait for him.

He's stronger now, after the food and a few more hours of sleep, and he understands what Nate meant about taking care of himself. If he's to do this, to take care of Nate and his needs, which is something he's clearly decided to do, though he isn't sure when, Eliot needs to be at his best. 

For now though, he waits, standing at the bedroom windows, looking out at the moon and the shadows of a city at night. 

The door opens Nate slides in on the cool night air, his body fitting to Eliot's as though they were carved from the same block. He's cool and smells vaguely of whiskey and rain as he lifts the hair from Eliot's neck and kisses the soft skin there.

His hands find Eliot's cock, already hard with just the suggestion of more and Nate chuckles into his skin. "Here." There's a bag, a bottle of pills.

Eliot lifts the bottle to the light seeping in from the moon and he raises an eyebrow. "Women's vitamins?" he asks as Nate pulls him back against his chest.

"You need the iron."

He doesn't argue, just pulls one out and swallows it before turning in Nate's arms. "Fine, as long as you don't think you're getting me into a dress."

Nate grins. "Kinky."

"Serious." Eliot says before kissing him. 

"So am I." Nate responds, one hand fisting in Eliot's hair and holding him while their tongues wrestle. 

Eliot's hands seek out Nate's skin, sliding under his shirt and fingering his waistband. His skin is cold, which Eliot supposes is normal, only he's never really noticed. But it makes him want to touch more of him, explore all the other things about him he might never have noticed. His hands move faster, unbuckling his belt, unzipping.

Nate chuckles low and deep and releases him. "In a hurry?"

Eliot tosses his hair back. "Curious."

Nate raises and eyebrow, but obliges Eliot, pulling off his shirt and tossing it aside. "About anything in particular?" 

Eliot raises his hand, sets it almost gently on Nate's chest. "Cold."

Nate nods indulgently. "Dead."

Eliot pales and pulls back. He hadn't ever really thought about it like that. Nate captures his hand and pulls it back, settling it over Nate's heart. "See?"

Eliot flinches, but Nate holds him tight, both hands on Eliot's wrist. There's no heartbeat under his palm, no movement in his chest. "It's who I am." Nate says quietly. 

Eliot lets that sink in, the truth of it…that he'd never really known Nate alive. Unless they counted the cat and mouse game in Prague, where they never really met. This Nate, the man that Eliot met on that first job, the man he'd come to like and trust, had always been this. He blinks and lifts his eyes from their hands to his eyes. "Okay."

Nate releases him then, lets Eliot continue his exploration. Eliot figures the next thing he wants to know requires more skin and he pulls Nate's pants down. His cock is half hard, slightly warmer than his chest as Eliot cups it. "Not all of you is dead." Eliot murmurs, his hand curling around the hardening cock.

"It likes you." Nate responds, smirking. 

"I like it." Eliot blushes as he says it, like he's sixteen or something. His own cock is starting to wake up, jealous of the attention he's paying Nate's. 

Eliot sinks to one knee, licking his way over Nate's cock, down to his balls. He smirks when Nate groans and sways against him. "Nice to know some things don't change."

"You shouldn't tease a vampire." Nate growls, pulling Eliot up.

Eliot responds by lifting his chin, exposing his neck. "Not teasing."

He sees the fight in Nate's eyes, the dark seeping into them and when he licks his lips, Eliot can see his fangs. His cock hardens completely at just that glimpse and he guides Nate's hand to it. "See?"

Nate growls as he strokes over Eliot's cock, nuzzling into Eliot's neck and in only seconds Eliot is already there, ready to come from just the feeling of lips and tongue against the spot where Nate had bitten him the night before.

Nate sighs a little against damp skin before Eliot feels the teeth, fire racing through his veins and shooting out of his cock, his knees buckling...but Nate catches him, pulls him to the bed.

The pull of blood through those small holes is dizzying, all the more so when he keeps coming. Nate pulls back before the dizzy pulls him under, his tongue laving over the wound. His hand lifts from where it had been cupping Eliot's spasming cock, and Eliot can't do anything more than groan as Nate licks his fingers clean.

"You okay?" Nate asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

Eliot swallows and nods. "Yeah…yeah…you?"

"Want you." Nate responds, a finger moving over Eliot's balls and down. "But only if you're up to it."

Eliot has a sneaking suspicion that stopping Nate would take a lot more than saying no, just judging from the night before. He spreads his legs, bending his knees. Nate's cock is hard and already nestling in Eliot's crack. Nate's hesitating, holding back and Eliot growls in frustration. 

He lifts up on his elbows, looking Nate in the eye. "Problem?"

Nate shakes his head minutely. "Slow." He gestures at the nightstand. "Lube."

Eliot rolls the top half of his body toward the nightstand, pulling the drawer open and rummaging until he comes up with a bottle and hands it across. Nate is shaking as he pours some out onto his fingers, applying it to his cock slowly…and damn but Eliot's glad he's already come because if he had to wait through this he might not make it…but then Nate's slick fingers are inside him and Eliot collapses back, tilting his hips to offer him room to move.

His ass is raw from the night before and the lube feels good on cool fingers inside him, then Nate's cock is there, stretching him, filling him. Nate's body is heavy against him as he adjusts, moves slowly. Fire explodes inside him as Nate finds his prostate and when he manages to open his eyes, Nate is grinning down at him. He holds himself still inside Eliot, just leaning into that spot inside him until Eliot is grabbing at his spent cock that isn't behaving as though he's just come hard and heavy.

"Nate…goddamn fucking move or something." Eliot pants out and then Nate does, pushes in a little more and Eliot is seeing stars and he knows his mouth is moving, but he isn't sure there are words for the noises he's making…and then relief as Nate pulls out, slams in again, sets up a punishing pace, managing to hit Eliot's prostate with just about every other stroke.

When Nate shoves in, coming and laying across Eliot to lick almost delicately at the wound in his neck, Eliot moans, his cock twitching and leaking a little. Nate falls to the bed beside Eliot, his eyes closed. His face wears a sated expression, a small stain of red on his lips as Eliot rolls toward him.

He lays his head against Nate's chest, marveling at the warmth borrowed from his own body and the way it fades slowly, at the lack of heartbeat, lack of breath and he wonders how others don't see it, don't notice. His hand splays out over Nate's stomach and he thinks back to before he knew the truth.

It dawns on him slowly, that maybe what he thinks he knows about vampires is a little off because he knows he's seen Nate outside in the day. He raises his head and looks at Nate who opens one eye and squints at him. "What?"

"Sunlight." Eliot says, as if that were an actual question.

Nate seems to understand though and nods. "Direct sunlight burns, blisters, smoke, it's rather disgusting. But, if I'm careful, I can go outside in the daytime. It hurts, but as long as I keep to the shade, keep my skin covered, I can manage it."

"It hurts?" Eliot repeats, more than a little skeptical. "Like…a sunburn?"

Nate's hand presses him back to laying on Nate's chest. "Something like that. Better when it's cloudy, but I can still feel it. I can tolerate it though, if I have something to dull the pain or occupy me."

"The drinking." Eliot says it slow, because it's just dawning on him that Nate's drinking has a whole lot more to do with what he is than with who he was. 

"It helps." Nate says softly. "It's kept me from doing this since we met."

Eliot lifts up again at that. "What?"

Nate chuckles. "You don't realize you're a vampire's walking wet dream? You're strong, physically and mentally, you're pretty as sin…" Nate brushes a hand through Eliot's hair. "And you smell so goddamn good I couldn't wait to taste you."

"And we're back to you being able to smell me." Eliot isn't sure he'll get used to that part.

"I can smell you, Eliot. I can tell by the smell when you're happy. When you're angry. When you're sad or lonely…or horny. I can smell when you've been with someone or when you want to be with someone. I can smell the food you had for dinner, the soap you used in the shower, where you've been."

He isn't sure why that makes him squirm, but Nate makes it worse.

"When you come back from the gym without showering, it takes nearly half a bottle of scotch to keep me off you…and the horse…dear god Eliot…when I could smell all of that power all over you…" Nate's fingers curl in his hair and pull his head back. "And the smell of that woman on you…and you wanted her…"

Nate's lips curl back, his eyes flooding with dark. Eliot's heart hammers away in his chest, loud to his ears, maybe in part because of the silence of Nate's. Eliot lifted his leg, settled it over Nate so that he was straddling him, his head still bowed with Nate's hand in his hair.

"But I didn't…" Nate's hold loosens just a little and Eliot uses the freedom to lean in and kiss a line up Nate's chest. "I wanted you. I couldn't have you, so I had her instead."

Nate growls, rolls them so that he's pinning Eliot. "Not anymore." His free hand covers the wound in Eliot's neck. Eliot blinks, remembering what Nate had said about possessive and just now figuring out that he hadn't meant that figuratively. 

"Now I have what I want." Eliot counters, rolling them again so that he was once more on top. "And Amy always was way to bossy for me anyway."

Both of Nate's eyebrows went up at that. "Oh, you don't know bossy…but you're going to find out."

Eliot smiles down at him, squeezing his thighs together just a little. "As long as you know I have a bit of a problem with authority figures."

Nate's fast, rolling them and pinning Eliot with his wrists in Nate's iron grip. His grin is wicked. "Oh, don't worry. We'll fix that little problem."

 

Somewhere near dawn, Eliot sleeps. Nate slips from the bed, crossing to the windows. The sky is starting to be more blue than black, the stars gone. The sun isn't up, not yet, but he can feel it rising. 

So many mornings he had stood here at this window until it was fully up, until his skin started to do more than just sting. He stares at the horizon as it slowly turned orange and yellow. He grimaces in pain and reaches for the controls to the blinds, pulls the drapes closed on the morning.

He should sleep, but being so close to Eliot, with so much of Eliot's blood inside him is not conducive to sleep. He is burning with needs he hasn't felt in years, not since Maggie.

He hears his phone in the other room and slips out of the bedroom, closing the door so Eliot can sleep. His voice sounds strange in his ears as he lifts the phone. "Yeah, Hardison, what's up?"

"Oh, it's like that is it? Last I hear from you, you screaming at us to get out and now you all cool like it wasn't all that? Never mind that it's been thirty eight hours since any of us have heard from you."

"I'm fine. I trust you all got out clean?"

"Nice of you to be concerned. Parker managed to get Sophie out. I've erased any record of us."

"Good." The line was quiet for a minute. "Anything else?"

"You see Eliot?"

Nate considers all the ways he could answer that question. "Yeah, he's okay. We got out together."

"He's not answering his phones. Sophie was worried."

Nate can hear Sophie in the background protesting and smiles. "No, he lost his phone in the fight, it broke." Nate's gut wrenches a little to the side when he remembers it, the sickening sound as it crashed to the ground alongside Eliot's head. "He's okay."

"New phone for Eliot. Check."

"Good. See you Monday." Nate hangs up before Hardison can say anything more.

"Everything okay?" 

Nate can't help the smile the sound of Eliot's voice brings. He nods. "We skunked the job."

"After you beat the shit out of the mark, I'd guess so." Eliot's leaning on the bedroom door frame in his boxers and t-shirt. "That's usually my job."

"You should get some more sleep." Nate realizes he's deflecting, but Eliot doesn't fight, just holds out his hand.

"You too."

"I told you, I don't need as much."

"True, but you need some and you haven't slept any. Come on."

Nate's instinct is to brush Eliot off, send him back to bed and pull out a bottle of comfort, but one look is enough to know that Eliot isn't going to let him so he surrenders and nods, taking Eliot's hand and letting Eliot lead him back to bed. 

 

 

Everything looks different when the sun comes up Monday morning. It's only been a few days, but everything is different now. Eliot watches the sun come up over the city, alone on the balcony of Nate's apartment. It's the first time he's really been alone since Nate came back from whatever business had taken him out of the apartment that first night.

It occurs to him that he never did ask, and Nate never volunteered. A man's entitled to his secrets. At least Eliot thinks he is. He's not sure exactly how this relationship thing is supposed to work. He's never been all that good at it.

He can feel Nate behind him, behind the thick drapes. He's anxious, and Eliot isn't sure if it's because Eliot was up first and left him in bed, or if it's something more. He paces, drinks, paces more while Eliot tries to get his head together, and eventually he leaves Eliot and goes to shower. 

Eliot rests his hands on the rail and considers everything that has happened in the last three days, since the job went south and Nate lost control and Eliot had used himself to keep Nate from killing. 

He hadn't planned it, not like that. He'd known about the vampire thing a while, and he wasn't lying when he told Nate he'd been wanting him, even as far back as the whole crazy horse scam, before he knew. But this was…Eliot hadn't even really thought it through. Nate was in trouble and Eliot acted. It was instinct.

But now, with the rising of the sun they had work to do, time to head back to the team, fix the job, if the job could be fixed. 

Eliot's hand rises to the spot on his neck where Nate bit him, twice now. He presses in and the feeling goes straight to his cock. He's going to have to stop by his apartment for clothes. Something with a collar.

 

He feels more than a little self conscious, like a teenager hiding a hickey. Nate smirks as they get off the elevator and Eliot fidgets with the collar of his shirt, making sure it covered the marks.

He stands against the wall, as Hardison goes over everything that went wrong, and damn when it went bad it went spectacularly bad. Eliot's cover was blown, Parker's exits blocked, Sophie left to try to cover everything while Nate lost his temper.

Their true target had been the insurance company, the sleazy mark was just a means to that end, but with a black belt in karate that was clearly earned the hard way, he'd matched Eliot blow for blow, and when Eliot went flying into the fountain in the courtyard, Nate had broken cover to jump in to help.

Eliot's eyes flick from the screen to Nate and back again, his hand sliding up to cover the place on his neck where Nate had bitten him. He can still feel the surge of electricity through his body, could smell the copper tang in the air. He can feel the way his cock filled and exploded as Nate drank from him.

The marks are already healing, fading into bruised skin, some vampire trick Nate said, but somehow he doesn't want he others to see them, to even suspect what they might mean.

As his hand slips down off the spot, away from where he is marked by Nate's mouth, he feels eyes and looks up, finding Nate, his eyes narrowed and focused on him. They mark him too. Mark him as belonging to Nate. 

And maybe he's not as comfortable with that in the cold light of day as he was on the long stretches of night that marked their weekend together. It wasn't exactly what he had planned…not that this was planned. He wasn't joking when he said he had issues with authority, and being tied down, and he sort of did it to himself, not thinking through the consequences, acting on instinct.

Or maybe it was the way Nate was looking at him that has him uncomfortable, like he wants to take Eliot right there on the table in front of everyone.

Or the way Sophie was looking at Nate, anger, disappointment because she can smell the whiskey and thinks he's drunk, but Eliot knows he isn't…knows that it's him that has Nate unfocused.

Whatever it is, as soon as Hardison stops talking, Eliot is ducking out of the conference room, only half surprised when Nate beats him to his office. "You're the one that wanted this." Nate says quietly.

Eliot nods. "I know. I'm good. I just need some space."

"Once bitten, always near." Nate whispers and Eliot feels himself flushing with heat. Nate isn't touching him, isn't even really in his space, but Eliot can feel him on his skin.

"Not going anywhere, just needed some air."

Nate's hand covers the mark, the bruises and teeth marks. "They don't ever have to know."

"Then you gotta stop staring." Eliot risks a glance up, pulls away from the hand as the others start looking their way. "And no touching where they can see."

Nate looks amused as he crosses his arms and leans against the wall. "Any other rules you have for me?"

Eliot's agitated, like he needs a good work out. He nods and pulls the bottle of vitamins from his jacket pocket, shoving them at Nate. "Yeah, keep these. I'll get my own."

"I'll know if you don't." Nate says.

"I'm not your little woman, Nate. I take care of myself."

Nate leans in just a little as Eliot opens his door. "See that you do."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new client brings a new case, but when the mark is a vampire selling Blood Slaves, Eliot and Nate may find themselves in over their heads.

Eliot tips his head back onto Nate's shoulder, baring his throat, moaning a little as Nate's fingers slide over his sweaty skin. So far all Nate's done is suck at the skin, bruising it, teasing Eliot every time his lips touch.

Nate's fingers are in his hair, pulling his head a little more to the side while his other hand strokes Eliot's cock and Eliot keens a little when the nimble fingers press into the leather of the cock ring. 

"Come on." He growls it at Nate who chuckles into the wet skin of his neck, his tongue laving over the spot again and again, driving Eliot mad.

"What is it you want?" Nate asks casually, as if he hasn't had Eliot hanging here on the edge of this for the last hour, as if they haven't been eye fucking all goddamn day as they cleaned up the last of the job, the last nail in the coffin of the mark that brought them together in the first place.

"Want, hell. I need to come damn it." Eliot tries to arch up into Nate's hand but Nate pulls him back, his teeth teasing against flesh. 

"Do you?" Nate's hand stills and Eliot groans in frustration. "Do you need it?"

"Fuck, Nate...come on." Nate's cock is inside him, but he hasn't made a move in a while, holding Eliot's body against his, teasing and toying with him.

"Not until you tell me."

"Want...need...just do it..." Eliot reaches for Nate's hand, tries to move things along, but Nate just pulls it away. 

"I want to hear you say it."

Nate's mouth is there...just hovering over Eliot's skin...so close and Eliot's panting, craving... "Fuck...need you, want you to...please...Eliot closes his eyes, presses back into Nate's naked body. "Bite me, make me come."

He gets off on it, the power to make Eliot beg, to reduce him to this, but then his teeth break through the skin and his fingers unsnap the cock ring and Eliot's body liquefies, every muscle releasing as he comes, spilling over Nate's had as Nate sucks life from him.

Nate's own orgasm is almost secondary, lost in the throes of Eliot's as he follows Eliot back to the mattress. Eliot's panting as he rolls onto his back, and it still kind of throws him that Nate isn't. Almost a month together and there are little things like that that give him pause. "You okay?" Nate asks and Eliot nods, getting up to go get a washcloth. 

"Yeah, you?"

"I'm not the one who just had a pint sucked out of him."

"No, but you are the one who got stuck out in the middle of the day earlier and hasn't had a drink since."

Nate frowned at him as Eliot wiped the blood off his skin. "I'm fine."

"You want something?"

"I didn't think you kept anything more than beer."

Eliot rolls his eyes and leaves Nate sitting on the bed, going into the kitchen for a glass and the bottle he'd bought two weeks before to have on hand when they inevitably ended up there instead of Nate's place. 

He dropped both on the nightstand to Nate's surprise. "This is a decent Scotch."

"I know. Figured if you're going to drink, you might as well have the good shit."

He's hyped up, not feeling the usual lethargic pull of sleep that followed an orgasm fueled by Nate's feeding. "Did you get enough?" Eliot asks, turning to look at Nate, trying to judge by his color or something. "I mean…since I don't have any…you know, extra in the fridge."

"I'm good for now." Nate says, sipping on the scotch. 

"Would you tell me if you weren't?" Eliot asks, his hands on his hips until he realizes that still naked it makes him look a little ridiculous.

Nate seems to consider the question. "If I need more I know how to get it." He leers at Eliot, at his cock, which hardens noticeably despite the recent orgasm. 

Eliot drops a hand to cover himself. "I'm being serious."

"I don't need you to nursemaid me, Eliot. I'm fine."

"In that case, I'm going to shower."

 

He pads on bare feet through the apartment, over hard wood floors and carpet, out to the living room and the broken in old couch. 

Sunlight peeks in around the blinds that don't make the apartment as dark as Nate's, but safe enough for Nate to get around without worrying about random bits of light leaving burns behind on his skin. 

He lifts the glass he left on the coffee table earlier, sips at the scotch. Eliot had bought the good stuff, said he'd keep it on hand now that Nate was around more often. 

It's late afternoon, quiet. Eliot's asleep after hours of exploring the boundaries of endurance and willingness between them...and Nate's still buzzing from feeding in the middle of it.

He sinks into the couch, kicking his feet up on the coffee table and lifting the glass to his lips. It isn't what he wants most, but he has to be careful with that...too much of a good thing always leads to bad consequences, and Nate knows it from experience. 

He sips at the scotch, sets the glass aside. There's a soft shuffle of feet on floor and when he looks up, Eliot is blinking at him, arms folded around his bare chest like he's cold. "Hey."

Eliot moves slowly toward him, and Nate can see the aches in the lines of his body. "Did I wake you?"

Eliot shakes his head, sinks onto the couch, ending up with his head on Nate's thigh. "Bed was empty."

Nate smiles, lets Eliot get comfortable before he pulls the faded old quilt off the back of the couch, letting it drape over Eliot who sighs, breath warm against Nate's leg.

The quiet settles over them and for a moment Nate feels content, quiet. Still. It seems odd, incongruent with the rest of their lives, but for now, he savors it, the warm feeling of Eliot beside him, the remnants of the feeling he always got when he got closer to bringing down the people responsible for the death of his son, and the simple joy of a job that let him get the best of bad people.

 

"There's one more thing I should mention about our mark." Nate says it quietly, privately, just for Eliot's ears.

Eliot can tell by the tone it's serious, and he crosses his arms to look at Nate. They're alone in the motel room in Phoenix, waiting for the rest of the team. Eliot already doesn't like the job. It's high risk, and it's Nate doing most of the risking, and it just doesn't sit right.

"I'm listening."

"He's a vampire." Nate says it like he's saying the guy is a vegetarian or a republican or something. 

"He's a what?" Eliot looks over his shoulder like expects someone to be listening. "Are you out of your fucking mind?"

Nate looks up at him, apparently surprised by Eliot's reaction. "This is a problem for you?"

"For me? What about you?"

"Me?" Nate finishes off the drink in his hand and shakes his head. 

"Do I even have to tell you that this isn't a good idea?" Eliot shoves off the wall where he was leaning and crosses to the desk. "You know they'll figure it out eventually. You can't hide behind the alcoholic thing forever…and shoving their faces into a case with another vampire? Hardison at least is going to figure it out."

Nate held up his hands. "You heard that poor girl. This bastard is selling slaves. She doesn't even realize the truth."

Eliot stops, eyes narrowing. "You know more than you're telling us."

Nate licks his lips and turns to his darkened windows. The tint is so dark it makes it look like nighttime when it was barely two in the afternoon. "It isn't just sex, Eliot. He's selling to other vampires."

"Blood slaves." Eliot understands now, nodding. The client was a young woman whose sister had gone missing after answering an ad for the mark's night club. She turned up two years later, dead with all the signs of sexual assault and some serious bondage. Cause of death had been ruled exsanguination, via a slit throat. "How do you—"

Nate picks up the photos on the desk. "You probably can't see them, and I know the coroner didn't, but there are teeth marks under the cut." Nate's eyes are getting dark and Eliot's body is responding. They don't have time for it, but the desire flashes across Nate's face just the same. "Later, after we've dealt with this guy."

Eliot isn't going to argue, because no one should become what he's let himself become without wanting it, and certainly not without the option to walk away. "Okay, I'll head out to the nightclub, do some recon."

Nate shakes his head. "No, not alone. Start here." He hands Eliot a picture of a club a few streets away from the one their mark owns. "Sharon was working there before she disappeared. See what you can find out. And make it fast. Every night we don't get this guy someone else goes missing."

 

It isn't often that he finds himself on the wrong end of a polecat hell bent on eating him for dinner, but that's exactly what this feels like, even as he peels the woman off him for the fifth time, trying to restrain himself from smacking her down, because he isn't that guy.

What he gets in return is three long scratches down his chest as her hand finally gets past his open shirt and Eliot just knows he's going to have to explain that...not to mention why it's taken him three different clubs to get anything resembling a straight answer about the missing girls…he just doesn't really expect to have to do it right that moment.

He senses Nate behind him, turns to head him off, but he's already there, right the fuck there, his hand on Eliot's shoulder. "I thought I told you to be quick about it."

Nate's eyes track to the woman who finally gets the idea that Eliot really isn't interested or maybe that Nate could eat her alive and she disappears into the growing crowd. "Working here." Eliot says easily as Nate steers him toward the door.

Nate's fingers pluck the earpiece from Eliot's ear. "Not anymore."

It isn't until they're in the alley and Eliot's shoved into the wall that he starts to realize how much trouble he's in. Nate sniffs him, teeth protruding as he growls. "You stink like that whore."

Eliot swallows and raises his hands in a placating gesture. "I was working."

He can tell reason is not going to work now though, not when it had been days since the last time they were intimate, days where they'd failed to find anyway into this vampire's operation, not when Nate had practically pulled that woman off of Eliot and she had bloodied him. 

Nate rips the shirt open, hissing like a goddamn cat as he sees the marks. "You let her touch you."

"Let nothing, Nate, I was trying to make her understand--"

Nate's hand is on his neck, lifting him just off his feet. "Understand what Eliot? That you belong to me?"

Eliot knows when to stop arguing, and even if that was the minute he saw Nate, and not five minutes later, but he gets the point now, lowering his eyes. "Yes, Nate. I belong to you. No one but you."

Nate lets him down, his hand moving back to the scratches and Eliot only barely keeps from screaming when Nate's fingers deepen the marks, lengthen them. He lifts his fingers and licks the blood from them. "I think I should remind you."

Eliot grins then thinking sex is just the thing they both need, take the edge of, get their heads back in the game. "Hell yeah. The hotel is--."

Nate pushes him back to the wall. "Here's fine."

Nate goes easily to one knee, pulling Eliot's cock out and closing his mouth over it quickly. Eliot's hard in seconds, even with those fangs grazing the skin on both sides. He groans and keeps himself from grabbing Nate's head, but only barely.

The scraping is just enough now that he's fully hard to hurt, to draw blood, but not enough to pull him back from the orgasm Nate sucks out of him.

Nate stands, leaving Eliot's cock hanging in the cool air, red from more than having just come. "That should remind you for a while." He's all the way to the end of the alley and Eliot's still standing there. "Get your ass in the car, Sophie's got us a lead."

 

"Remember the part where I said this was a bad idea?" Eliot is pacing in front of the desk, the rest of the team hovering just outside the bedroom door in the living room of the suite. "This? Is worse."

Nate knows he needs to calm Eliot down, because they're in too far already and this is the only way they're getting close enough to the mark. "It is the only way."

"Just like that?" Eliot shakes his head. "Then maybe you better take another drink and see if you can find your head in that bottle, because you sure ain't using it right now."

"Eliot, it's not like I've never dealt with another one before."

Eliot huffs. "If you're going in, I'm going with you."

Nate's instant reaction is to shake his head. "No. It isn't safe."

Eliot laughs, but there's no humor in the sound. "If it's safe enough for you, it should be fine for me."

"You don't understand." Nate drains his glass and crosses to the window, his back to Eliot so he won't see what Nate's thinking. Stephen Darling had a reputation, and even if he was using another name now, he hadn't changed. He had an appetite for the ones who were hard to break, the ones he could spend years breaking down. Ones like Eliot.

"I'm not letting you go in there alone." Eliot says, though his voice has softened some. "You go, I go."

Nate can tell from the tone that Eliot means it and this is the moment to pull the plug, walk away…but Nate's never been good at letting go of something and he really wants to take this guy down so he nods, turning back to Eliot. "Then you go my way. You do what you're told, no questions. I've dealt with guys like this before."

"Yeah, me too." 

Nate can almost see the flash of memory, his hand rising to cup to Eliot's face. "He's not like Lo Chan Fen, Eliot. He's much, much worse."

Nate opens the door, not surprised to find Sophie and Parker jumping back from the door, Hardison sitting on the couch with his laptop and earphones. "Change of plans, Eliot's coming with me. Sophie I need you manning the phones for when he checks my cover. Hardison, pull up every blueprint for every building this fucker owns. Parker, find where he's keeping them."

Hardison looks up, eyebrows raised. "What about the part where this is a bad idea?"

Nate stops at the door to the hallway. "This man is stealing people and selling them as sex slaves. Right now we know for a fact he has at least three waiting for sale. If any of you want to pull out, now is the time."

He waits, watching them all fidget, until Eliot pushes through to stand by Nate. "You heard the man. Get to work."

 

Eliot is getting better at the costume thing, judging solely by the way he's dressed for the part of Nate's companion. Black jeans and a white button down that's unbuttoned enough to show his chest and the nearly ever-present bruise at the base of his neck where Nate likes to feed and the scratches down his chest. 

His hair is loose, easy to tangle fingers in. Nate draws Eliot to him, nipping at the bruise to bring fresh blood to the surface. It's been more than a few days since they've had time to be together in any significant way and Nate's hungry for him. "Later." Eliot murmurs, that husky voice going straight to Nate's cock. "After…"

Nate nods and pulls back, leaving the bruise a little bloody where his fangs grazed the skin. "We want him to know you belong to me, it will give you a little freedom to look around, watch our backs."

Eliot nods, but doesn't quite look at him. "We should get going."

In the car, they both turn on their earpieces and settle them into their ears. "I meant what I said Eliot, follow my lead or we'll both end up dead." Or worse, but Nate didn't voice that.

The club was busy, but there weren't lines out the door like a Friday night. The valet took Nate's keys as he stepped out of the car and Nate circled to Eliot's door, holding out his hand. After only a brief hesitation, Eliot took it, letting Nate draw him up out of the car and to his side.

He was tense, Nate could feel the hot, hard line of Eliot's body against his. "Easy."

"Let's just get this over with." Eliot responds, his eyes sweeping around them. "Back corner."

Nate nods to a woman watching them closely. "I see them. We have to take this slow. Bar." They glide to the bar and Nate orders up a scotch.

"Anything for your boy?" the bartender asks.

Nate feels Eliot bristle. "Beer."

It tells him a lot. The staff here knows the truth, knows how to spot a vampire. He files that information away as the drinks are served. Eliot is glaring at him and Nate turns, brushing hair out of his face. "Drink your beer." He lets his fingers slide into Eliot's hair and grips, making Eliot wince. 

Eliot lifts the bottle, sips off it as he surveys the room. "Guns at the doors." Eliot says quietly. "Four at least. Our mark has a bodyguard." Eliot put his beer down, looking around Nate. "Make that two."

"Come on." Nate heads toward the booth in the back where Stephen Darling, currently known as Andros Marquez is holding court. The bodyguards stand a little straighter as they approach, but Marquez knows his own kind when he sees one and backs them off. "Evening." Nate pulls Eliot a little closer, knowing that he would catch the mark's interest.

"I don't believe I know you, and I was certain I knew all vampires in the area."

Nate smiles easy. "New in town…just passing through, actually. Heard you were the man to see."

Marquez gestures for Nate to join him. Nate's hand slides up Eliot's back to the back of his neck, holding him and pushing him into the booth first.

"It seems to me you don't really need my services." Marquez says, his eyes sweeping over Eliot.

"Actually, I'm here to offer you mine." Nate says, setting his glass on the table.

That pulls Marquez back to him. "Oh? What could you possibly have that I don't?"

Nate smiles, lets some of the dark inside him out through his eyes. "A bigger market."

Marquez raises an eyebrow, glances out at the club. "Mine's plenty big."

Nate leans back, pulling Eliot up against him. "I can double it, plus offer you imported goods to sell here."

"Imported?" He's clearly got the vampire intrigued, but his eyes stray to Eliot again. "Is he imported?"

Nate pushes Eliot away and looks him over, his hand on the back of Eliot's neck. He's fuming, furious. Nate can smell it, though to Eliot's credit, he doesn't react outwardly, keeps his cool, follows Nate's lead.

The other vampire looks Eliot over like he's a prize, his hand tangled in the leash he's got his own companion on. The boy is barely twenty, long and lithe, pale from his blond hair all the way down to the place where his skin disappears under loose clothing.

He's far more submissive than Eliot, on his knees in the dark corner of the nightclub. "I don't share." Nate says coolly, his hand petting down Eliot's back before settling once more on the back of his neck. Eliot bristles and Nate tightens his grip, squeezes just a little, hopes Eliot gets his meaning.

"Pity, I'll bet he's a tasty one."

Nate drops his card on the table and stands, keeping Eliot seated for a moment more with the hand he has on the man's neck. "If you decide you want to do business."

"I'll consider it." A pale hand snakes out to take the card, but the dark eyes are still on Eliot. "If you'll consider sharing."

Nate doesn't let himself react, just moves away, finally letting up the pressure so that Eliot can stand and follow. "Hardison?"

"I got him, already calling to check your cover."

Nate leads Eliot out of the club. He can feel him vibrating with anger and as he turns, Eliot's fist lands full in his face.

"I am not your goddamn pet." The heat rolling off Eliot is intoxicating, the anger mesmerizing. Nate shakes off the punch, holds up his hands.

"I never said that you--"

"Fuck you. Parading me around in there like I'm some fucking plaything? Like I'm...Fuck you!"

"Guys?"

"Fuck you too, Hardison." Eliot says, pulling away when Nate reaches for him. "I mean it."

"Guys? Can we fight more about this when there aren't bad guys with guns coming your way?"

Nate moves fast, grabbing Eliot by the hair and yanking him in, bending his head away as if to feed. "Hold still," he hisses in Eliot's ear, looking up as the doors open and their mark comes out with his array of bodyguards and the boy on the leash.

He bites, but doesn't really drink, just enough to bloody his lips, and Eliot calms, presses against him. He lifts his face and Marquez raises a hand in greeting, a small smile on his face. Nate holds Eliot there until the car pulls away.

Once the danger is past, Eliot pushes him away. "I'm serious." He wipes at his face, at the bloody smear on his neck. His fingers pluck the earpiece out of his ear and he hands it to Nate. "I'll find my own way home."

"Eliot." Nate reaches for him, but he's fast and Nate's left standing alone outside the club.

The valet pulls up with his car, and Nate is tempted to follow Eliot, but figures Eliot needs to cool down and lets him go. "Hardison, where are we?"

"Parker's got it narrowed down to three possible locations. Sophie's working on getting us what we need for when Marquez bites."

"Call me if you need anything…and keep an eye on Eliot."

"How am I going to do that? He took his earpiece out."

"He still has his phone."

"Right. On it."

 

Eliot stalks down dark streets without really paying attention to where he is going. He's simmering with anger, but he's not really sure what he's angry about. He's been on edge for days, and every time Nate drinks from his refrigerator instead of Eliot it gets worse.

And, considering they've been sharing a suite with the team, and considering that Eliot still comes every damn time Nate bites him, it just hasn't been feasible. Eliot doesn't know where Nate's getting his supply here in Phoenix, but it's obvious he's getting what he needs…and that just irks him further.

He storms around a corner and stops, looking around to get his bearings. He's maybe ten blocks from the hotel…but he isn't sure he's ready to go back there. Not that Nate will be there anyway, not when Eliot knew he needed a drink, in more ways than one. The little taste he got when he was protecting them was enough to make him needy.

And that just sent another rush of anger through him, imagining Nate at some bar, downing whiskey and flirting until he found someone willing…imagining him in some alley with some floozy, drinking alcohol laced blood and heading back to the hotel buzzing with it.

"Fuck that." Eliot decides maybe what he needs is a bar of his own. Maybe a good old fashioned bar brawl to work out some of this aggression. 

What he finds instead, as he turns another corner, is something else entirely. He holds up his hands and starts to back away. This is more fight than he was looking for. The gangbanger on the ground is bloodied and only his fingers move, scratching feebly at the concrete. One of the men standing over him kicks him solid in the ribs and the sound is wet.

Eliot licks his lips, shakes his head. "I didn't see anything." He knows that won't fly, knows he's in for some serious pain and readies himself. He's outnumbered and out gunned. He can see at least five knives and two guns and who knew what else they were packing. The leader of the group holds up a hand and they stop, all twelve of them staring at Eliot. That's about when he senses the big guy behind him. 

Easily six and a half feet tall, the man towers over Eliot. "Shit." He swings into action, attempting just to get clear enough to make a run for it, but they swirl around him, and for every few punches or kicks he lands, he takes one too.

Then the knife slices into his thigh, and another over his chest. "Wait, hold up." Someone pulls a guy off him as Eliot falls to his knees. The lead pulls the ripped shirt aside. "Fuck, this is one of Marquez's. Look."

The knife point pokes at the mark on his neck.

"Let's get out of here."

Eliot's head is swimming, his vision blurry as they run, leaving him on his knees in the street. He tries to take inventory. The leg wound is fairly serious, bleeding profusely. He fumbles in his pocket for his phone, dials Nate's number, but the world is getting dark and he falls under the weight of it before he hears Nate's voice.

 

Fury fills him. Uncontrolled. It's dangerous and he knows it. But at the moment he doesn't care.

He stands at the window, stares out at the night, snarling at his own reflection. The poor nurse who came in to tell him that visiting hours were over was gone. Nate had felt her leave the hospital, her heart pounding in fear.

He wasn't leaving this room. He would stand there and watch the world burn before he did.

"Nate?"

He turns from the window, his face softening. Eliot blinks, his eyes sweeping the room. Nate can hear his heartbeat, feel the confusion, taste his pain. "Shh...you should be sleeping."

The drugs running through him keep Eliot from really putting it all together. Nate can almost see the scattered memories flitting through him as he sits on the bed, taking Eliot's hand. "I'm right here, and I'm not leaving. You're safe. Sleep."

"Safe..." There's a hint of humor in the word. "My boyfriend is a vampire." Eliot's eyes drift closed. "How's that safe?"

"Because that boyfriend is going to watch over you." Nate murmurs, his hand brushing over Eliot's face.

Eliot's eyes drift closed and Nate watches the drugs and his injuries pull him under. It had been close...so close. Eliot's blood still stains his clothes, and now some of Nate's blood runs in Eliot's veins. It wasn't something he'd ever considered, but Eliot would have bled out before the ambulance got them to the hospital. It was just a small amount. Just enough to keep him alive, to lend him the healing properties of his kind.

Nate's hand is shaking when he lays it on Eliot's chest, over his heart. It beats slow and rhythmically, reassuring Nate that Eliot would live another day, fight more battles. Probably end up in more hospitals along the way.

He listens to that beating for a long moment before he pulls back and turns away. The dawn is coming, and Nate gets up to close the curtains, hoping they'll be enough to protect him from the daylight, because Nate's not going anywhere until he's sure that Eliot isn't going to slip away from him, isn't going to need more from him...then Nate's going to find the men responsible for this and drink them dry.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nate seeks out vengeance on the men who hurt Eliot, but will it drive Eliot away or draw them closer, and what will the team think when their leader sets out on an obvious suicide mission...and there's still that mark to worry about.

It's mid-afternoon before Nate feels him stir again. His eyes open and dart around the room before landing on Nate in the chair by the bed.

He frowns a little, looking up at the IV dripping into his arm before squinting at Nate. "What happened?"

"From what I've been able to gather, you got jumped."

Eliot makes a face and shakes his head. "No, I remember that. I feel...strange."

"You would. You got cut up pretty good. And they've got you on some pretty heavy drugs."

Eliot looks away. "About what I said-"

"No, you were right. I should have explained it better before we went in." Nate stands and moves to the bed, letting one hand slide down Eliot's arm.

"I'm not like that." Eliot says after a while. "I'm not...something you can put in a cage and expect me to be okay with it."

Nate lifts Eliot's hand and presses a kiss into his palm. "I'd never want that."

"Sometimes it feels like you do."

Nate isn't really sure what to say to that. "I like who you are, Eliot…everything about you…especially that you aren't some soft, submissive blood slut. I like that you don't go down easily."

A sly grin comes over Eliot's face and Nate chuckles low in his chest. "But I do go down." Eliot says before Nate can alter what he'd said.

"And I like that too." Nate responds, resting his hand on Eliot's stomach.

"Seriously though, if I'm so bad off, why don't I feel it?" Eliot's eyes narrow, focus on Nate's face. His hand slides over the bandages on his chest. "I should hurt a lot more than I do."

"Good drugs." Nate looks up at the IV, down at his hands, anywhere but at Eliot.

"Nate, did you do something?" His hands slides up to Nate's mark on his neck, the mark that's almost gone. "What did you do?"

"Calm down." Nate stands, walks to the window, but it's daylight and he can't open the curtains so he turns back at Eliot who is pushing up to sitting now. "I just…you were bleeding out…" Nate sighs and crosses back to the bed. "I cut my wrist open and bled into your leg. Not a lot. But it helped stop the bleeding…enough that it's helped you heal faster."

Eliot blinks at him, like he didn't really expect that answer. "You…what?"

"Don't be angry. It shouldn't have any long term affects, and the short term ones are…interesting."

"Define interesting." 

Eliot doesn't seem angry. "Well, you'll be back on your feet faster, more stamina, strength…and well, sexual appetite gets…bigger."

Eliot raises an eyebrow. "That is interesting."

"Nate?" Sophie's at the door when he turns, smiling at Eliot. "Hardison needs you." She steps into the room, smiling at Eliot. "How are you feeling?"

"Better." 

"I'll be back." 

Eliot waits for the door to close before he looks at Sophie. "What's that about?"

"Business. Nothing you need to worry about."

"Sophie."

"Nate made me promise not to say anything."

Eliot glares at her until she caves. "Okay, he's had Hardison looking for the men who did this to you."

"I thought we were working a job." Eliot frowns and shakes his head. "He should keep his head in the game."

"Are you sure it wasn't because of the game?" Sophie asks, sitting in the chair Nate had been in when he woke up.

"I walked up on a gang thing…that's all."

Sophie nods, absorbing the information, but she doesn't take it any further. "So, this thing between you and Nate?"

"What?"

She smiles as she sits back. "Did you think we didn't notice?"

"Notice what?" Eliot fidgets because he doesn't really want to be having this conversation without Nate to back him up.

"That he's drinking less, that he watches you, that you watch him…there's something going on."

Okay, so at least it's just that part. Eliot can handle that part. "Not really…I just occupy some of his time. Give him something to do that isn't drinking."

Her eyebrow goes up at that. "Oh really? Like what?"

Eliot shrugs. "We talk, play cards…you know guy stuff."

"Right, because both of you are such big talkers."

He's saved from having to answer by the door opening and Nate's return. "We're all set. Have Parker here by sunset."

She's gone before Eliot can think of anything more to say, so he turns to Nate instead. "Keep your head in the game."

"It is in the game. We're meeting the mark tomorrow night right after sunset. I'll take Sophie."

Eliot shakes his head. "No. I'm going. I'll be on my feet by then."

"Absolutely not." Nate crosses his arms. 

"I wasn't asking permission." Eliot huffs at him. "Besides that isn't what I meant."

"Leave it to me."

"No." Eliot pulls the blankets back and stands. "You haven't fed well in days, you're not at your best and you're worried about me. That's no condition to be running around a city you don't know chasing goddamn gangbangers." His knees wobble and his thigh throbs, but Eliot takes two steps toward Nate.

"You need to stay in bed. You lost a lot of blood." Nate grabs his shoulder and guides him back. "I'll have them bring you more drugs if I have to."

"Nate."

"It's not open for discussion Eliot." Nate pulls away and Eliot can see he's shaking as he pushes his hands through his hair. "I said I would handle it."

 

"Nate."

Eliot holds out his hand, trying to entice Nate back, but Nate shakes his head. "You'll be fine. Parker's here. I'll be back before you know it."

But Eliot knows why Nate is leaving, knows where he's going. And Eliot doesn't like it. In fact, it's only the drugs running through his body that is keeping him in the bed. They've spent the last two hours not talking about it.

"Nate, please. Don't leave now."

Nate turns back at the door. "Not this time, Eliot. They hurt you."

"You don't want to do this." Eliot is pleading with him, but Nate pulls the door open.

"Funny, it's all I've wanted to do since I found you."

He leaves before Eliot can say anything more, because part of him knows Eliot is right, that he will come to regret what he's about to do, but that won't keep him from doing it. "Do not let him out of that bed." Nate says to Parker as he slips his earpiece in. "Hardison?"

"First address, 1515 Morningside, apt 15."

"Name?"

"Pedro Costas, current leader of the Banditos."

"And we're sure that's who hit Eliot?"

"Only gang working that territory. Bad mother fuckers too. Watch your back."

"I'll worry about my back, you keep the cops out of the neighborhood."

Nate turns the earpiece off, because Hardison doesn't need to hear what is going to happen. He navigates the streets, keeping to the shadows as the sun sets in the distance and he gets to the address just as three guys leave the building wearing gang colors.

"Excuse me, I'm looking for Pedro Costas?"

"Yeah? Who are you, crusty old white man, to come up in our hood?"

Nate takes a few steps closer. "I'm a friend of the man you boys roughed up last night, the one you left bleeding and dying on the street."

"Don't know what you're talking about." The middle guy pushes the others away, probably sending them for help. That's okay, by the time that helps arrived Nate will be feeling a whole lot stronger than he is right now.

"Maybe I can remind you." Nate grabs him, yanks him into the shadows between buildings and shoves him against the wall. "He has a mark on his neck…right about here." Nate bites deep and the guy starts to scream, but one solid suck of blood and he stills, the arousal overwhelming his fear. "He belongs to me. No one touches him unless I say they can. People who try end up dead."

Nate drinks him fast, so fast he can't even come first and drops him to the dirty alley pavement. He turns on his earpiece. "One down. Who's next?"

"Wait? Down? What does that mean?"

"Hardison." Nate growls at him, the blood pumping through him fueling his anger…now that he's tasted revenge, he wants more. "Give me the name."

"Okay, right. Yeah. Second in command is Michael Gabriel. 2615 D street, two blocks from where you are."

Nate is on the fourth name, not quite to him when his earpiece crackles. "Hardison, I told you—"

"Not Hardison." Eliot's voice filters through the fury and blood lust. 

"Come home, Nate. Just let it go."

"No—"

"Nate, I'm not asking. Stop now and come get me or I'm out of here."

His voice is soft with no hint of anger, only hurt affection. 

"They hurt you."

"And you saved me. I think that makes us even." There's silence between them for a long moment. "I'll be here until midnight. If you don't come for me, I'll be gone by morning." 

 

The door opens slowly and Eliot turns from where he's standing by the bed. Parker had brought him a change of clothes and he was just finishing buttoning down the shirt. "I almost didn't think you were coming."

"I almost didn't come." Nate says.

"I know what you did." Eliot let's his eyes sweep over Nate, over the flushed skin that was nearly pink, bloodshot eyes and clothes that looked like he'd been wearing them for days. "Are you okay?"

Nate nods distractedly. Eliot echoes the motion. "We have a job to finish. What's say we go get some sleep?"

He isn't angry exactly, in fact he's sort of touched, in an odd way. Nate's skin is warm when Eliot brushes against him, warmer than it's ever been. It had taken threatening Parker to get her to leave the room, but she is waiting with the car when they come down. 

Nate is strangely pliant as they drive to the hotel, following Eliot upstairs to their suite. Hardison and Sophie look up as they entered, but no one says anything, at least not to them as Eliot leads Nate into the bedroom they're sharing. 

"Nate." His hands shake as Eliot gets closer, rising up to cup Eliot's face. "I'm okay."

"Almost lost you." Nate grinds the words out of clenched teeth and Eliot can smell the blood on his breath.

"I'm right here. You saved me."

"They hurt you."

Eliot lets out a breath and pulls Nate to him, kissing him fervently. "You can't run off an kill everyone that ever hurts me, okay? For one thing, you wouldn't have time to do anything else. I get hurt a lot. It's part of my job."

Nate's starting to come back to himself, Eliot can see it in his eyes. "They tried to kill you."

"But I’m not dead." Eliot lets go of him and goes to pour him a drink. "And now you're going to drink this, take a shower and get some sleep. Sophie's got us all lined up for tomorrow. You and me are taking Marquez out for a drive, show him your plans for the operation while Parker and Hardison spring the slaves he's got hidden."

"Just like that?"

Eliot nods. "Just like that."

To his surprise, Nate doesn't argue, just downs the whiskey and heads to the bathroom. Eliot sighs and lets himself back out into the main room.

"This is the part where you explain what's going on, right?" Hardison asks as Eliot lowers himself into a chair.

"Nate needs some rest." Eliot responds. "And we need a better plan. This guy is going to come back at us with a vengeance if we just walk in and steal his merchandise."

"You make it sound like we're lifting a painting or something." Sophie says.

Hardison sits forward, setting aside his laptop and making a "T" with his hands. "Hold up. Are we just going to pretend tonight didn't happen?"

Eliot looks at Hardison, who seems more than a little freaked out. "What did happen, Hardison? Did you hear anything?"

Hardison's eyes are wide as he shakes his head. "No. But Nate went into gang territory and he came out alive. He went in alone. He said things like one down. Down? Are you telling me that don't mean what I think it means?"

"I'm telling you to let it go." Eliot says softly. "If you know what's good for you."

"Why? Is he going to come out here and kill us too?" Sophie asks, standing up to pace around the room. "I mean, that's what he did out there, isn't it?"

"And what about you?" Hardison pokes at his arm. "Just twenty four hours ago you were dying in the streets and now you're up walking around?"

"I heal fast."

"Don't give me that—"

Parker stands abruptly, clearly frustrated. "You people can be so dense."

She charges for the door to the other bedroom, but Sophie cuts her off. "What do you mean?" 

Hardison joins them, turning Parker to face him. "Spill."

Parker looks to Eliot for support but Eliot honestly doesn't know what's going on in the girl's head so she huffs. "Fine. Nate is a vampire, obviously. He has a thing for Eliot and that's why he went all rampagy killing those men."

The room is silent for a long time, then Sophie starts to laugh. Hardison is still looking at Parker like she's insane. 

"A vampire. Nate is a vampire." Sophie repeats it a couple of times before sitting on the couch. "With a thing for Eliot."

"I think I need to have my hearing checked." Hardison says, shaking his head. "Girl, there's something not right with you."

Parker rolls her eyes. "You act like you didn't notice how he drinks more when he has to be outside during the day, how he covers as much skin as possible, wears a hat and shades, like you don't see the difference in his behavior since he hooked up with Eliot." She mouths the word "sorry" at him and Eliot just sits back because he had no idea the thief was this observant. 

"And how long has it been since this hooking up?" Eliot asks, genuinely curious to see if she knows.

"Just over a month. Since Nate blew a gasket and beat the crap out of our mark…I figure he got all blood-lusty and you two sorta…you know…" She shrugs again and the room is quiet. "I mean…once a vamp's got a taste of you, it only goes one of two ways…either they kill you or you become their personal buffet, right?"

Eliot doesn't know what to say, or if he should say anything, but discovers he doesn't have to. "Parker is right." Nate's voice sounds into the room.

All eyes turn to him. Eliot scrambles to his feet, but Nate holds up a hand. He's still wet from the shower, wrapped in a hotel robe. 

"What do you mean Parker is right?" Sophie asks, looking from Nate to Parker to Eliot. "I mean, you can't mean that she's right about you being a vampire."

"There's no such thing as vampires." Hardison says, pulling his laptop back into his lap as if it could protect him.

Nate takes a step into the room. "I am a vampire. Have been for a number of years, actually. And yes, I killed three men tonight. I'm not proud of it. But I'd do it again."

"There's no such thing as vampires." Hardison repeats. Parker pats his shoulder in as comforting a gesture as she can manage. 

"It's kind of a shock the first time. I know."

Nate kind of smiles at Parker. "How long have you known?"

"I know Genevieve." 

Eliot doesn't know what that means, but obviously Nate does because he nods. "Now, I realize that for some of you this is…odd, and you need time to adjust. You have until the morning. If you can't handle it, the door is over there. No harm, no foul. Eliot, let's call it a night."

 

He half expects them to be gone in the morning, or more like afternoon, when he emerges from the room. Hardison looks like he never went to bed, eyes bleary as they lift from the computer screen. "I got us the hook up. Decked out semi with a killer sound system and the trailer all set up for transporting livestock, if you know what I mean."

Eliot frowns at him. "Coffee?" 

Hardison rolls his eyes and points to the room service tray. Eliot stumbles toward it and pours himself a cup before he comes back to Hardison and his computer. "Okay, now talk."

"Sophie's idea. You offer transportation to and from a remote air strip, where you fly the merchandise out of the country. The rig is designed to hide things behind false panels. You could fit ten to fifteen people in it and still pack a load of cargo."

Eliot nods, sipping at the coffee. "And the prisoners?"

Hardison shrugs. "That's mostly on Parker. She's out picking up a few things she says she'll need."

"And how is it we keep this fucker from coming back after us, or just starting over?"

Hardison punched a few buttons on his computer. "Well, it seems that Mr. Marquez is having some liquidity issues. His stock portfolio just took a dive. Seems someone gave him very bad advice to invest in a company that doesn't exist." He punched a few more. "Oh, and those mortgage payments seem to have gone astray…poor man looks to be loosing some real estate."

"Nice." Eliot drains his coffee and turns to find Sophie coming out of the bedroom. She's dressed for business, hair pulled up, glasses, a briefcase. She smiles at him. "And what are you up to?"

She holds out her hand and Hardison fills it with a stack of papers. "I'll be liquidating his personal accounts."

"How exactly?"

"One of Sophie's favorite cons." Nate says as he joins them. "She'll be posing as his wife."

"He has a wife?"

"Had." Nate corrects. "She's dead, but no one ever found the body and he told people she ran off. Now, she's back."

"Fortunately for us, he never bothered to remove her name from any of the accounts, because he knew she'd never come around to clean them out." Sophie drops the papers into her briefcase. "I should be arriving at the bank around 4pm."

Nate nods. "We'll be meeting him at about the same time, get him out of the way."

"So all we have to do is keep him out of the way for a few hours?" Eliot asks.

"Yep, and drop him off home once everyone is done."

It sounds awfully simple, and that makes Eliot nervous. 

"So, we're good?" Nate asks as Sophie fills a plate from the room service tray.

She looks him over. "Let's finish the job. We can talk about it after."

Nate looks at Hardison who holds up both hands. "I'm cool…as long as you know…you don't try to eat me or anything."

Eliot slaps him upside the head.

"Ow, why you gotta go and do that for?"

"Where's this truck?"

"Truck stop outside of town. Driver's waiting for you."

 

Eliot knows the minute they're blown. He hears Hardison mumbling in his ear about losing the lock down on Marquez's cell phones, sees his bodyguard looking at the screen on his phone and leaning in to whisper in his boss' ear.

He tugs at Nate's arm, pulling them around the side of the trailer seconds before the gunshots start firing. "Fuck."

"I take it that means we're blown?" Nate asks blithely.

"Hardison, get everyone out."

"Can't reach Parker. Sophie's on her way. I've got cops heading your way."

"Not going to get here in time." Nate says, pulling a gun from his waistband. "We have to find shelter."

"What you need to do, is give my friend your gun, Mr. Antony." Marguez says smoothly from beside Eliot, the muzzle of his gun shoved into Eliot's face. "Or I'll be redecorating your truck with your companion's brain matter."


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nate and Eliot look for a way out of a dangerous situation, but Nate's solution only lands them in a hotter fire than the one they left.

"I don't know how you managed it, but I've got to say I figured you'd know better than to mess with one of your own."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Nate says, smooth as anything despite the blade at his throat, despite the fact that Eliot's already taken a few cheap shots.

Eliot wipes the blood from his lip and takes in the situation. The truck is moving, has been moving for at least a half hour and stuck in the back of it, he has no idea where they're going. Five guys and the vampire. Normally he'd take those odds, especially with Nate to back him up, but this isn't normal. This is far from normal…because Eliot is still healing, Nate's blood or no, he knows he isn't a hundred percent.

At least they hadn't found the earpieces yet, so Hardison was still hearing what was going on. 

"Parker is clear. Three prisoners are with her." Hardison's voice has an edge to it, fear maybe. Eliot's eyes meet Nate's.

"I was just looking to do some business. If you're not interested, just say so. No need for all of this violence."

"Funny thing is, Mr. Antony, your company doesn't exist. Your computer guy is good, but so is mine. I had him dig around a little…and he tells me your company doesn't exist, and neither do you."

The truck rumbles and lurches along some dirt road, because they left pavement a while ago and there's no gravel kicking up under them…and dirt around here means sand. Desert. "Where are you taking us?" Eliot asks.

Marquez backhands him across the face. "Slaves don't speak, boy." He turns back to Nate while two of his men crowd Eliot into the wall. "Now, where was I? Oh yes, if you and your company do not exist, that must mean that you are trying to trick me, swindle me…maybe you're looking to take over my action?"

Eliot can feel Nate's eyes and nods a little to say that he's okay. Nate stands from the chair they pushed him into after dragging them into the truck. The man with the knife at his throat moves with him. "We clear?" Nate asks, looking at Eliot, though his words are for Hardison. 

"Yeah, we're clear." Hardison replies.

Eliot nods again, this time so they can see him. He has no idea what Nate has planned, but he's clearly got something going on in his head. "Maybe, Mr. Marquez, I already have." Nate turns slowly. "Your computer guy may be good, but mine is brilliant. If we weren't so far out of cell phone range, you would be able to verify that you are penniless. Your businesses are dry, your home is going to be foreclosed on, your bank accounts are empty. Those prisoners you had locked up in that warehouse awaiting sale, are mine now and already in transport to the buyers."

Nate's smile is evil. "Now, if I were you, I'd turn this truck around and head us back into the city. If you play nice, I'll see you get a little something back."

Marquez eyes Nate up and down. "Pretty damn cocky for a vampire in your position, aren't you?"

"It's a character flaw." 

Eliot wishes he felt the confidence Nate obviously did. Marquez nodded to one of his men who lifted a phone. They obviously weren't as far out of cell phone range as Nate thought, or their computer guy really was good, because the man spoke to someone, then nodded to Marquez. 

Marquez snarls at Nate before his hand reaches out to grab Eliot by the hair, dragging him into the center of the truck. "You have no idea who you're messing with." 

Eliot struggles and two of Marquez's men grab his arms to hold him. "Get out now." Nate says calmly, his eyes locked on Eliot's. Eliot stills, even as Marquez pulls his head to the side. 

"You aren't going anywhere." Marquez snarls. "Not until I've had a taste."

Eliot feels the familiar sting as teeth penetrate his skin, feels his cock flush and fill. He pulls forward, toward Nate.

"I told you, I don't share." Nate growls, punching one of the men holding Eliot. His hand wraps around Eliot's waist, pulling him close, turning them…"Now!" …and then they're crashing through the door, falling, rolling through a cloud of dust.

The truck slows, as they separate and pull each other up, Marquez in the open back door. He waves goodbye and the truck barrels off into the distance, leaving Nate and Eliot in the middle of nowhere with only a few hours until dawn.

"What the fuck was that?"

"Digital door locks. Hardison opened them for us." Nate reaches for him, checking the wound in his neck, now coated in sand, but Eliot pulls away.

"I'm fine…other than the ribs you broke with that stupid stunt."

"You'd rather I left you with him? If you're lucky he'd have killed you."

There's more in that statement than the words Nate said, a fear of just what Marquez could have done. Eliot acknowledges it with a nod. "So now what?"

Nate looks around them. "Now we wait for Hardison to send Sophie to get us."

That's about when Eliot realizes he doesn't have his earpiece. "Fuck." He looks down the trail left by their rolling bodies. It could be anywhere and in the dark they weren't going to find it. "Tell me you still have yours."

Nate's eyes close and he mutters curses under his breath. "Okay, we can't be too far out, we've only been off the road what? A half hour?"

"Forty-five minutes at least." Eliot corrects.

Nate turns, pointing back the way they'd come. Eliot follows his finger, shaking his head. With the cloud cover mostly hiding the moon, it's nearly impossible to see the tracks the truck had made just moments ago, and with the steady wind blowing they'd be gone in no time. "It's a big desert…we could walk for hours and never find the road."

Nate nods. "Clearly, Marquez thinks we aren't getting out of here alive. No water, no idea where we are. He wouldn't have left us here otherwise." His eyes scan the horizon. "There's a pile of rocks over there. We can make them by sunrise."

"And then what?" Eliot asks.

"Wait for dark again, or for the team to find us."

 

They're maybe half way to the rocks when Nate feels the start of sunrise. It's like a tingle, a tiny shock of electricity deep inside him, a warning to get under shelter. He wants to push faster, but one look at Eliot tells him it's a bad idea.

Eliot's hurting, hiding it well, but Nate can smell the pain with each step. "You’re a stubborn idiot." Nate mutters, making Eliot stop in his tracks.

"Me? I'm the stubborn idiot?"

"You shouldn't be out here. You should be in that hospital bed." Nate doesn't mean it to sound so accusatory, but it comes out hostile and aggressive.

"I was fine until someone flung me out of a moving truck." Eliot counters. "Whatever you did with that blood of yours had me patched up good."

"Then why are you limping?"

"We don't have time for this. Sun's coming." Eliot yanks on Nate's shoulder to get him moving again. "I'm limping because I got your knee in the thigh as we were rolling in the sand. It'll be fine."

"You know you say that a lot."

Eliot frowns at him. "Say what?"

"That you're fine, or you'll be fine. It's like you can't let anyone know you're in pain."

Eliot rolls his eyes. "Okay, I’m in pain. It fucking hurts. It's bleeding and it hurts. Does that make you happy?" Eliot growls as they stalk through the sand. "While I'm at it should I tell you that my ribs hurt and my head hurts and I'm thirsty and I'm pissed because I told you we shouldn't have taken the job?"

Nate recoils, because he can feel the anger coming off of Eliot in waves. "Does that fix everything?" Eliot asks, walking a little slower. 

"Eliot." Nate reaches for his shoulder, but Eliot pulls away from him. "Come on, I didn't mean to make you angry."

"Can we concentrate on getting you out of the sun?" Eliot asks after a few moments, gesturing at the horizon that was more blue now than black, with a fair amount of red and orange in it. "I'd rather not have you burn up while I'm supposed to be watching your back."

Nate can feel the sun long before he can see it, and it isn't even really warm, but his clothes are soaked with sweat and despite the gorging he did, it's been twenty-four hours and he's burned through most of that just getting this far.

The pace is punishing and they're still not going to make it in time. Nate stops, shaking his head when Eliot turns, the question on his face. "No."

Eliot takes the few steps back to him. "Don't be an idiot."

"It's too soon. You need it more than I do."

"So don't take a lot." Eliot counters, rolling up his sleeve before spitting in his hand to wipe away the grime that coats his wrist. "Here."

Nate pulls away, but Eliot is right, he needs the blood to keep going. "Just a little." 

Eliot nods and Nate lets it come, closes his eyes and bites. Eliot stiffens beside him, but says nothing until Nate pulls back. "That wasn't enough." Eliot says softly.

"For now." Nate responds, already feeling the warmth fill him. Eliot presses a hand to the wound and gets them moving again. 

Nate hisses when he feels the first direct ray, burning against his hand. He pulls his jacket sleeve down, pulls his hands up inside and turns his face away. Just a few more feet. He can make a few more feet.

His legs tremble and give out just shy of the shade, but Eliot catches him, drags him the rest of the way until they're behind the rocks, protected for the moment from the sun. "Stay here, I'm going to see if there's a cave or an overhang or something."

Nate can hear his boots on the stone, feel the vibration against his back. This rock won't be enough for long. He closes his eyes, wills himself to stay calm. His body wants more of the only thing that will give him a chance to stay alive, it clamors for it, drives him to want to push out into the glare of the sun to find it and it's a battle to stay still, especially once he knows Eliot is coming back.

"Okay. I found something. It isn't much, but it should give you enough shade to get through the day."

"Where?" Nate manages through clenched teeth, keeping his eyes closed. If he even looks at Eliot, he might not be able to control himself.

"Not far, but we're going to have to move in the open to get there."

Nate can hear the concern in his voice, but he nods, heaves himself up. He shudders when Eliot's hand touches him, but let's Eliot guide him, let's Eliot pull his face down against his shoulder to protect his face from the sun. Then he's pushing Nate down, hand on his head and Nate sinks into the blessed dark of a shallow cave with a stony overhang.

He curls his feet in, tucks his hands inside his jacket and folds up as small as possible to keep his extremities safe because he dare not open his eyes, dare not look…the smell was enough of a temptation.

"Okay, this should be good. I'm going to go up top, have a look around, see if I can see anything."

 

Nate is nothing if not stubborn. Eliot has learned this the hard way, so it shouldn't surprise him when that stubborn streak comes close to getting him dead.

"For fuck's sake!" Eliot drops to his knees beside Nate's quivering body, stripping off his shirt as he does.

"No." Nate says it through clenched teeth, clenched fucking fangs because he needs to feed and his body knows it, even if his damn stubborn head won't allow it. 

"Like hell. We got this far. I'm not letting you die on me now."

"Too soon."

The marks of his last feeding are still fresh and raw on Eliot's arm. He hadn't taken enough then and they were fuck knows where in the middle of nowhere, in the goddamn desert an hour past high noon. The rocky outcropping was only barely enough to keep Nate in the shade and Eliot really didn't like the burns he could see on Nate's hands.

"If you don't feed, you're going to die." Eliot growls at him, pulling a knife from his boot. He cuts over the marks from the morning, opening his skin and letting the sent of blood fight this battle for him. He watches Nate, watches him struggle, then slowly, slowly surrender.

His lips close over the wound, his teeth scratching lightly at the raw edges as he drank. Eliot feels the familiar arousal, dampened by the danger, by the fact that it may well be too soon, and too little, especially after the last forty-eight hours, but fuck it all to hell if he's going to let this goddamn mark get the better of them…and he was going to need Nate if they were going to get out of this.

Nate sits back before Eliot has to pull away, the shaking diminishing some. Eliot drapes his jacket over Nate's face to give him some respite from the light and turns to sit beside him. He'll rest a while, there isn't much more he can do anyway. He'd stripped off his white shirt, ripped it in half and tied each to a couple of sticks he'd found, mounting them at opposite ends of the rocky mound they were huddled under, just in case anyone actually came looking.

He is hurting pretty good now, the thigh throbbing, two broken ribs pressing against skin. His hand comes away from his side wet and he cusses low, craning his neck to look. One of the ribs is poking through skin, and that is never a good sign.

"You okay?" Nate asks through chattering teeth and Eliot nods and leans his head on Nate's shoulder.

"Gonna be just fine. Rest. Long walk ahead of us tonight."

When night came, he'd feed Nate again, and they'd find the road out...hope they made shelter or someone found them before daylight.

 

The sky is a dark blue-black stained with clouds that tease them with the promise of rain. Eliot stumbles beside him and Nate catches him, pulls him close. In his other hand he clutches the earpiece he'd found completely by accident when Eliot had fallen earlier in their trek. 

It's not working enough that he can hear anyone talking, but he can feel the electric pulse of it against his skin, which he hopes means the GPS is still working. 

The moon is slinking through the clouds, as Nate keeps them moving. He's mostly given up trying to talk, because it's a waste of energy, something neither of them has a lot of. 

He catches a scent, vague, unspecific, and he turns them toward it. They stumble along, and it gets stronger. Exhaust. A vehicle. He tries to get Eliot's attention. "I think someone's coming."

They aren't far now, he can smell her. "Come on, Eliot." Nate murmurs, his arm around Eliot's waist. With no water, the day in the desert had been horrific, even before Eliot had forced him to feed. Eliot had been through too much and even with Nate's blood flowing inside him he was really showing the strain.

There is a wet sounding cough that has Nate worried, and Eliot's eyes are hazy and his focus keeps wandering. But now, with the moon risen Nate is stronger, not hampered by the sun and heat. Eliot weakens with each mile they put behind them and but Sophie's coming, just not fast enough to suit Nate.

Finally, as the clouds break open and reveal a moon three days past full, a van rumbles to a stop and Sophie is there, pulling open the door and helping Nate get Eliot inside. "Water. Eliot first." 

She's got bottles, passing one to him before cracking another to lift to Eliot's lips. Eliot's eyes are closed, his face slack. "Eliot, drink." Nate orders and Eliot's tongue slides over his lower lip. Nate takes the bottle. "Get us out of here, I've got him."

"Hardison, I've got them." Sophie says as she slides back into the driver's seat. The van lurches as Nate pulls Eliot into his lap, spilling water over his face to help rouse him.

"Come on Eliot, drink." Nate pours some of the water into his mouth, relief flooding him when Eliot swallows. "Good. A little more."

After Eliot gets several swallows, Nate lifts the bottle to his own lips. "We need to get him to a hospital." Nate calls up to Sophie.

She glances over her shoulder at him. "Can it wait until Tucson?"

"He's pretty bad."

"We've worn out our welcome in Phoenix."

"Marquez?"

She nods. "He's a little upset with us. He found our hotel just after we finished pulling out. Hardison is covering our tracks, but we don't really want to linger."

"Told you this was a bad idea." Eliot mumbles up at him, eyes cracking open. "You should listen to me more."

Nate's so relieved to hear his voice he nods. "Yeah, maybe I should."

"Tucson is fine." Eliot's voice is gruff, like he'd swallowed gravel and glass. "Fast is good though." His eyes meet Nate's. They're okay. Somehow.

Nate holds the water to Eliot's mouth, watching as he drinks. 

After a while, Eliot sleeps, curled up on his good side, his ribs wrapped in what's left of Nate's shirt and Nate slides into the front seat with Sophie. "Thank you."

"What was I going to do, leave you two out there?" She rolls her eyes at him. "Hardison said it was a long shot, but we had to try."

"They meeting us in Tucson?"

Sophie nods. They're quiet for a while, then she sighs loudly. "It's a little odd, isn't it?"

"What? The vampire thing?"

"Well, I mean…yes. You never said anything."

"I didn't figure it was important. I'm still me. Essentially. With a few…personality quirks."

"Is that what you call it?"

He glowers at her, a remnant of that rage filling him as he looks back at Eliot asleep in the back. "All three of them were murderers."

She's scowling. "That isn't the Nate I knew."

"Maybe not the me I was when we first met, but I've been this way a long time now, Sophie." He turns to look at her. "Are you upset about the vampire thing or about Eliot?"

"What?" She shakes her head. "Oh no you don't. Don't go making this about me. You lied to us."

"And you haven't lied to all of us at least once since this thing started?"

"That isn't the point."

"No? Then what is the point?"

"Why don't you two just fuck and get it over with?" Eliot's voice cut through their bickering.

Sophie huffs and nearly drives them off the road. Nate turns to look at Eliot who hasn't moved. "Excuse me?"

"If it would end this constant bickering, just do it already. You'll both realize it's a mistake, things will be awkward for a week or two, then you'll get over it and the rest of us can live in peace."

"Eliot!" Sophie is clearly indignant at even the suggestion, which only proves what Nate had suspected earlier. "I have no desire to…with Nate."

"So you lie to yourself as well as the rest of us?" Nate asks softly and she glares at him, then reaches up to turn on her earpiece.

"Hardison, we're ten miles outside of Tucson. Guide me to the nearest Emergency room please?"

 

Hardison is waiting for them when they pull in, a wheelchair at the ready. Nate climbs into the back to help Eliot up and out of the van, but Sophie takes the wheelchair and pushes him inside without a word. Hardison holds up a hand to stop Nate from following, holding up a small cooler.

"I didn't know what you liked, so I just got a little bit of everything. Figured you'd be needing to tank up about now."

Nate takes the cooler with a frown, opening to find pints of blood. "Hardison?"

"Parker helped. She said you might be a little on the hungry side and that we shouldn't let you near Eliot again until you'd had a little something something."

Nate nods slowly, looking at Hardison who took an involuntary step backwards. "But, my boy in there needs company, so I'm gonna go sit with him and leave you to your little snack, okay? Right. Just. I'm going—"

He watches Hardison go before sinking back into the van to lift the first plastic packet of blood. There's three in all and underneath is a fifth of Jack. That Parker is one smart girl.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nate and Eliot have some issues to work out, if they can ever get past themselves to communicate in any meaningful way.

"I'm telling you, Nate, I'm alright."

"No." Nate pushes on Eliot's good shoulder, the one not just above three broken ribs, to keep him in the hospital bed. "You're not alright Eliot. You have to rest.

"I feel fine." Eliot insists, trying to peel the blankets back.

"I know you do, but you're not." Nate sits on the side of the bed to hold the blankets down and captures Eliot's hands. "I know you may feel invincible right now, but you're not."

Nate lifts a hand to touch his sunburned face and for a change, Eliot doesn't pull away. "That's just what a dose of vampire blood does to you. You need to let your body heal." He doesn't tell Eliot that he's given him just a little more of his own blood, doesn't tell him he's sending the others away. Marquez is still too close for comfort and they'd hurt him, crippled his business, but he's still a vampire, still stronger than any mark they've ever felled before.

"What about you?" Eliot asks after a long while, his hand soothing along Nate's arm.

Nate smiles softly. "I'm good. Parker and Hardison found me some blood to get me on my feet again." 

Eliot's hands find Nate's, turning them over to check on the burns that are slowly healing. He needs to feed more, and they both know it, but what he wants most he can't have just yet, so he'll wait.

"You're not invincible either." Eliot says as if sensing the thought. "Have Parker get you more."

"If you promise to stay in bed until the doctor says you can get up."

Eliot's smile is a welcome sight. "Deal." The smile dims a little and he pulls his hand out of Nate's.

Nate frowns, not sure what he's thinking now. "What?"

Eliot shakes his head. "Not important."

"It is if I say it is." Nate responds, his hand on Eliot's thigh.

Eliot crosses his arms and fidgets, but he's promised not to get up and he's got nowhere to escape, so he huffs and glowers while Nate waits patiently. "Marquez." Eliot says finally, biting at his lip.

Nate nods slowly. "What about him?"

"It ain't over." 

Nate knows that isn't what he really means to say, but nods again. "No, it isn't. He'll come looking for us."

Eliot's eyes dance away. "Me," he corrects. He clears his throat. "He'll come looking for me." Whether he means to or not, Eliot's hand slides over the bandage on his neck, his eyes closing.

Nate forces himself to stay still, forces the cool coil of anger in his stomach to stay tightly locked down. Because Eliot isn't wrong. Marquez had gotten a taste and he would come looking for the rest, even if he didn't want revenge for the rest as well.

He lets his hand cup to Eliot's face, tender, his thumb caressing over the bruised cheekbone. "Hey, I told you, it's natural." Because the guilt is pounding through Eliot and Nate can taste it. "Not your fault." Nate can almost see the thought in Eliot's head, when Marquez bit him and he became aroused. 

Eliot's eyes close and his face flushes even redder. "I didn't mean it. Didn't want to."

"I know." Nate's words are soft, despite the image in his mind of Eliot in that vampire's hands, the scent of Eliot's blood as Marquez bit into him, the arousal Nate could taste on the air. "It happens. It's a part of how we've survived, Eliot. It's how we subdue our victims long enough to drain them."

Nate closes the distance between them and brushes his lips along Eliot's forehead. "I'm not angry about that."

"But you are angry." Eliot says, and it isn't a question.

"Yes, I am." Nate agrees, tilting Eliot's face up so he can kiss his chapped lips. "I'm angry that I led us into that situation, that I let you go out there at all, that Marquez got away, that he touched you at all…but not that."

"Well I am." Eliot pulls away, huffs again. "I shouldn't be so…easy."

"You're anything but easy Eliot." Nate soothes, but he can see that Eliot isn't ready for that. "I should let you get some sleep. I'll be out there if you need me."

 

Nate closes the door and exhales slowly. "Hardison?"

"Behind you." It's Parker's voice though and Nate turns, still surprised that the nimble thief can sneak up on him sometimes. In her hands is the same small cooler Hardison had given him the night before. Hardison is with her, still hanging back a bit. 

Parker hands over the cooler. "We'll sit with him if you want to go have your lunch in private."

Nate thanks her with a smile. "I'm not ready just yet, but thank you." His eyes flick to Hardison. "Marquez?"

Hardison fidgets until Parker elbows him in the ribs. "I don't know." Hardison says finally. "He's…gone."

Nate shakes his head. "No. He's out there. And he's going to be coming for Eliot. We have to find him."

"I've got all of his aliases, that we know about, covered. If he surfaces, I'll know it."

"Not good enough, Hardison." Nate set the cooler down and paced. "He's got to have had something hidden away, money we didn't find. He's somewhere, and I'm guessing not far. Any way he can track our aliases back to us?"

Hardison shakes his head. "No. No way. The hotel was booked with IDs we've never used, we ditched cell phones. You're the only one he really interacted with…so I only had to sever the Antony alias from you."

"What about Sophie? The security cameras at the bank?"

"Pulled and replaced." Parker says with a grin. "They won't even know it happened."

Nate shakes his head. Marquez wasn't going to let go that easily.

"Nate, we got it covered, relax. Sophie's already on a plane out of here. Parker and I go this afternoon. You and Eliot follow when he's ready to fly. We won't see this guy again."

"You don't understand." Nate snaps, then holds up his hand to ease the sting, because Hardison really didn't understand and that wasn't his fault. "He bit Eliot."

Parker's eyes got big and her mouth formed a surprised "O" but Hardison just shook his head. "So what? Now you have to kill him? Because he touched your boy?"

Parker elbows him again and Hardison steps back. "Why you gotta keep doing that?"

Parker shakes her head, rolling her eyes at Nate before turning to Hardison. "For a smart boy you sure can be dumb." Parker turns to Hardison, grabbing his shoulders. "Remember what I said before? Once a vamp's got a taste of you, he either kills you or keeps you."

"Yeah, I heard what you said." Hardison frowns down at her. "No offense, but you were talking about vampires like they were real at the time, I wasn't following you."

Nate growls, frustration growing. He steps in close so he can keep his voice low. "Once a vampire has fed off a live victim, if they don't kill the person, they crave more. It can become an obsession, that's why Marquez was doing such a booming business in slaves. He sold them to vampires…and they'd keep them for years before they wore them out or got bored, or couldn't resist the temptation to just take it all."

"Okay, so it's like coke for vampires." Hardison says, nodding, then shaking his head. 

"More than that, we form a connection of sorts." Nate explains, wishing he didn't have to. "I could find Eliot anywhere."

"Like some super-stalker thing? Okay, now that? Is all kind of twisted."

"Smell, you idiot." Parker says, crossing her arms. "He can smell Eliot, and now so can Marquez."

It went well beyond smell, Nate knows, but he doesn't correct her. Hardison is uncomfortable enough with what he knows now, any more would make the geek's head explode. Even here in the hallway, Nate can feel Eliot's heart, knows each beat, knows he's not really asleep by the way the rhythm speeds up just a little every time Nate speaks. 

"I need to get Eliot out of the country, while you three find Marquez." Nate says abruptly, the solution suddenly obvious. He would take Eliot out of Marquez's range, they could spend some time regaining their strength and exploring exactly where this thing between them was going to go, and when Marquez turned up, Nate would see that he never touched another living thing again.

"Out of the country?"

"London." Nate nods. London's a good place to lay low for a while. "Work us both up some new identities, something low key. Get us on a plane tomorrow."

"Tomorrow. Just like that." Hardison snaps his fingers with a wobble of his head.

"Is there a problem?" Nate asks and Hardison swallows. 

"Lot of work, 's all. Not a lot of time."

"Then I suggest you get busy." Nate suggests, holding back the grin until Hardison has decided he really should leave.

"You shouldn't torment him." Parker says in the silence following Hardison's exit. "He's trying. You kinda rocked his reality a little."

"But not yours." Nate turns to her now, the first chance he's had alone with her since his little revelation.

"Like I said, I know Genevieve."

"You said, but never expounded."

Nate settles into a chair outside Eliot's room, next to the cooler. Parker crosses her arms and thinks about how to answer. "I met her in Moscow…and we hit it off."

He nods. He could see Genevieve being taken by the petite blond. Intrigued by her. "She caught you trying to steal something. And let you live to tell the tale."

Parker nods and shrugs a little. "We talk sometimes. I helped her out a few years ago…she told me a few things about vampires."

"And you've picked up a few more since then." He lifts the cooler and considers finding a dark closet to feed in. "You know, this thing with Eliot…I never meant for it to be like this. I never wanted to do this to anyone."

She nods and drops into a chair opposite him. "I know. She was the same way. Sometimes though…things happen. I know you'll take good care of him." Her eyes narrow. There's a vague threat there, as much as Nate can be threatened by a tiny woman.

"Yes, I will." 

"Go on. You look hungry."

 

_"You know, this thing with Eliot…I never meant for it to be like this. I never wanted to do this to anyone."_

Eliot hears the words as though Nate were in the room with him, hears the ache in them…ache to take it all back, to go back to that moment when Eliot offered himself to save a mark from dying.

He'd thought he was doing a good thing, keeping Nate from killing someone, knowing how much it would eat at him after it was done. He'd thought getting Nate past whatever hurdle still existed between them would bring them closer, and now Eliot sees that all he's done is compound the problem.

Now three men were dead and Nate had the weight of that on his conscience and really, it's Eliot's fault. If he hadn't dragged Nate into this…

The door opens and the nurse enters, a new IV bag on her tray along with a syringe. They don't talk as she changes out the bag, then adds the pain meds in the syringe. He doesn't argue, though he doesn't really need them and a few minutes later, Eliot drifts off to sleep. 

 

"Have I ever told you I hate London?" Eliot asks as they clear through customs.

Nate scowls at him. "No. Why would you hate London?"

"Food sucks, it rains all the time."

Nate grins at that, putting a hand on Eliot's hip to pull him close. "All the more reason to stay inside."

Eliot rolls his eyes, but can't hide his grin. "You brought me to London just so we can hide in a hotel and fuck?"

"It's called vacation, Eliot. Relax, enjoy it."

"Right. Vacation. Not 'get Elliot out of the country while Hardison finds Marquez'?"

"Well, it serves that purpose too. If it makes you feel better, we can go find a pub and see if you can pick a fight…but not until you're a hundred percent."

Eliot huffs in frustration, but he'd promised Nate a week. A week of just the two of them. No cons, no marks, no team. No worrying about Marquez. No arguing over things that they couldn't change.

Just the two of them and a week of nothing to do. Eliot grins as Nate's hand skims over his denim clad ass. Well, nothing to do but each other.

Hardison's got them booked into the presidential suite in one of the city's high end hotels, registered as Dr. Larry Dillon and his partner, Marcus Carter and despite Eliot's misgivings about the entire thing, he's impressed as they arrive and a flurry of activity sweeps them through check in and up to their suite where dinner is already laid out, a bottle of wine opened on the table.

Eliot lets Nate tip the bellboy while he wanders over to check out the bedroom and it's king sized bed he almost needs a stool to get up onto. By the time he emerges, Nate is pouring wine and gesturing at the table. "I promise it won't suck."

Eliot sticks a finger in Nate's belt loop and pulls him in until their bodies are touching. "As long as you do," he responds, with his voice low. 

Nate chuckles and wraps his arms around Eliot. "In more ways than one."

It's been days now since Nate had fed on him in any real way. Eliot doesn't count the two times in the desert because that hadn't been enough, not by any stretch of the imagination. He feels a stab of guilt, something that's been happening a lot in the last few days, and pulls away. "So, lets eat."

"Eliot…" Nate knows something is bothering him, even though he works to hide it. But part of the deal that got Eliot here was that Nate would give him some space, that they wouldn't dig at the assorted scabs. So, Nate drops the subject and slides into his chair. "Okay. Lets eat."

The silence between them is awkward for a few minutes. Eliot digs into his steak, trying to bring his mind out of the spiral of self-accusation and back to the part where they were going to spend seven days exploring the physical limits of vampire/human relations. 

He's horny as all hell, a left over side effect of the blood Nate had given him to help save his life after the thing with the gang in Phoenix…which feels like a lifetime ago, but really has only been about a week, and even though Eliot had jumped Nate in the bathroom at the airport in NY, that had been a day ago. 

The more he thinks about that, the hotter he gets, his cock hard. Finally, he puts down his fork and risks a glance at Nate, only to find he's staring at Eliot.

"So, since you made me promise not to ask what's going on in that head of yours, is this the part where we say fuck the food, lets just fuck?" Nate asks, lifting his wine glass to drain off the last of it.

Eliot shoves away the guilt, the questions and nods, letting the need pull him out of his chair.

Nate pulls back from the table, but before he can get up, Eliot is straddling his lap, rubbing their cocks together. "My turn." Eliot growls.

"I thought it was your turn at the airport." Nate's hands hold his waist, trying to keep him from rubbing them together so fast.

"Still my turn." Eliot amends. "Want to do it here."

"At the dinner table?" Nate seems amused. "You're going to need to get out of your pants then."

"Naw." Eliot reaches for Nate's unused steak knife, twirling it in his fingers before reaching behind him with it and using the tip to rip into his well worn jeans, pulling the blade down the seam. "They're old…was going to get rid of them anyway." Eliot nips at Nate's lips as he tosses the knife back on the table and reaches for the butter instead. Nate's eyebrow goes up as Eliot reaches behind himself with his fingertips full of butter, rubbing it over and into his hole before he uses slick, buttery fingers to undo Nate's pants. 

His fingers slip and slide over Nate's hardening cock, lubing him up with the butter before Eliot is lifting up, Nate's hands steadying him as he guides Nate's cock to his ass. The first breach stings, because damn it's been a while, but Nate grabs his elbows and Eliot leans back, shifting the angle and settling his feet against the window sill behind Nate.

He pulls back, then pushes down, earning a deep groan from Nate that makes him try harder, pull more sound from him. The chair rocks with his movement, until Nate lifts up, sending them to the floor with Eliot under him and he's leaving bruises under his fingers as he lets go of Eliot's arms and grabs his hip, up under the t-shirt.

It burns when Nate steps up the pace, filling him, making his whole body rock against the floor and he's grateful for the clothes keeping his back from rug burn. His own cock is trapped inside his jeans, pressing against the zipper and he reaches for it but Nate captures his hand.

"Uh-uh. My turn." 

Nate shoves into him deep, hard, coming inside Eliot as he lifts Eliot's hand, nuzzles along the wrist and without warning, bites, pulling several mouthfuls of blood out of Eliot.

Eliot yells, bucking up as he comes, panting as he eases slowly back to the floor. Nate licks lightly at the wound, though his thumb is pressing just north of it to stop the flow of blood. Eliot presses his wrist up at Nate, offering more, but Nate shakes his head. "We've got seven days, Eliot…a little pacing might be good."

 

There are different levels of stupid and judging from the level of pain and the amount of blood, Eliot maybe found a whole new one, especially if the look in Nate's face is any indication. But damn he's having a good time.

Eliot slams his fist home into some guy's face and drops him, just before Nate's hand is in his hair, dragging him away from the carnage.

"What the hell was that?" Nate asks as he pushes Eliot up against the wall outside the pub where the brawl raged on.

Eliot knows better than to move, because Nate's pissed and Eliot's still bleeding from the knife he didn't quite twist away from as he shoved Nate out of the way. "Most people say thank you when someone saves their life."

Nate uses his fistful of hair to pull Eliot's head back. "I'm not most people.". His kiss is rough, possessive and Eliot accepts it for the chastisement that it is. "I heal faster and I've had enough of watching you get hurt."

"It's nothing, barely a scratch." Eliot gasps as Nate's mouth leaves his and travels south to where the shirt is ripped open. His lips find the contours of the slash, his tongue moving through it, and when he pulls back there's a look on his face filled with lust and hunger and it makes Eliot's cock hard to watch.

"I'd fuck you up against this wall, if I wasn't worried you'd end up with an infection." Nate growls, his eyes starting to darken. 

"So take me home and tape me up first." Eliot counters, grabbing a fistful of Nate's hair to pull him in, his kiss hungry and needy. 

"Beginning to think maybe I should stick you in a fucking cage…at least that way I know you won't go getting yourself killed." Nate yanks on him, getting them moving in the direction of the hotel.

"Like to see you try." Eliot counters, slipping away from Nate and grinning. "Ain't a jail yet that can keep me, Nate." 

Nate growls and catches him as they get to the elevator, pulling him and pushing the shirt up to get a better look now that they have light. Eliot lets him look for a minute, then pushes away. "It's a scratch. Bloody, but fine." Eliot insists, letting Nate pull him from the elevator and into the suit. He pulls the shirt off as they get inside, knowing Nate will insist on cleaning it immediately.

"Seriously, they can't kill me Eliot. They can kill you though. And that would make me very angry."

Eliot nods once, but doesn't get a chance to respond as movement near the window tells him someone else is in the room. He takes a defensive stand, pulling Nate closer. 

The woman turns from the balcony doors, a fake smile on her otherwise pretty face. She's all business in a gray suit, red hair pulled back impeccably. "Mr. Nathan Ford. You are one difficult man to find."


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nate is given an offer that Eliot will not let him refuse, no matter what that means for Eliot.

Nate stutters to a stop beside Eliot, his eyes narrowing. "I'm sorry, you must have the wrong room. I'm Dr. Larry Dillon."

Her smile fades and her arms uncross. "Do not play with me, Mr. Ford. You won't like the toys I brought."

"Who are you?" Eliot asks, circling the couch.

She doesn't even look at Eliot. "I'm here, Mr. Ford, to speak to you about a business transaction on behalf of a mutual acquaintance."

"Eliot." Nate's voice is filled with warning, his hand up to warn Eliot from getting too close. The woman has no heartbeat and isn't breathing, so clearly another vampire. "I don't do business without knowing who I'm speaking with."

"Who I am is irrelevant. Who I represent is not." Her hand drops to a briefcase on the chair beside her, pulling out a folder. "I believe you last knew him as Andros Marquez."

Nate feels the response in Eliot, instant anger, his fists clenching. Nate circles the couch, putting himself between the woman and Eliot. He can tell she has little use for humans, but would probably kill Eliot if he got too close.

"I have no business with that bastard."

She nods. "He thought you might say that." She holds the folder up, then sets it on the table. "This might change your mind. I'll be in touch in a day or so, when you've had a chance to think this over." She lifts the briefcase. "And if I were you, I'd teach your pet better manners." Her eyes flit disdainfully over Eliot before she's heading for the door.

Eliot beats him to the folder, cursing as he opens it. He drops the folder on the table and leaps the couch, wrenching the door open and running after the woman. Nate's torn for the moment between chasing after him and looking at the folder, but figures she's probably long gone and Eliot's only chasing air, so he reaches for the folder.

Inside it are three pictures. Rage fills him, bringing out fangs and he growls as Eliot slams the door, panting. "The fucker…" Eliot gasps, holding his side. "Couldn't catch her."

"It's okay. I didn't expect you would." Nate's hand closes into a fist, crinkling the folder and its contents. "She said she'd be in touch. I'm sure we haven't heard the last of her."

"He's got Parker and Sophie and Hardison." Eliot's face is hard, angry.

"No, he has pictures of them. We have no proof that he has them, only that he knows where they are." Nate tries to force himself to calm down, to think past the anger that Marquez would target his team and not him. "He wants something, obviously and he's letting me know that he has the means of getting it."

Eliot's phone is out of his pocket, his thumb pressing buttons. Nate stops him, presses the phone down. "What are you doing?" 

"We need to warn them."

Nate shakes his head. "No, if we do, Marquez may make his move early. He's probably watching them. We need more information."

"Yet another reason to call Hardison." Eliot insists, pulling his hand away.

"Eliot, we need to distance ourselves from them. If Marquez thinks they're important to us, we put them in danger."

"I think it's pretty clear they're already in danger Nate." Eliot lets him take the phone though, shaking his head as he paces away. "I can't just sit here and wait for Marquez to kill them."

Nate hears something in the words, turns. "You're not blaming yourself for this, are you?"

Eliot doesn't look at him as he crosses his arms, scowling into the floor. "Eliot, don't be an idiot."

"Why stop now?" Eliot asks bitterly before yelling in frustration. "I need a drink."

Nate nods and heads to the wet bar, but Eliot is heading for the door. "Eliot, wait."

"I need a drink, Nate." He says it emphatically, as if making a particular point, then storms out of the suite. Nate lets him go, his hand on the crystal decanter filled with good Irish whiskey. That's a need he understands, though he's thinking maybe this time, he really wants his head clear. 

Obviously, he's underestimated Marquez. He can't let that happen again.

 

Nate's almost ready to go looking for him, when Eliot finally crawls back in somewhere near 1am. He's limping a little and there's a bruise on his face that hadn't been there before, but he seems to be okay, even apologetic as he sheds his clothes and crawls over the bed to where Nate is reading. "You had me worried." 

"Just needed to work out some…aggression." Eliot responds, his words slightly slurring.

"What, one bar brawl isn't enough for one night?" Nate brushes a hand over Eliot's cheek, turns his head to examine the bruise. "Did you leave anyone standing?"

He blushes a little, turning to lay on his back on the bed beside Nate. "The bartender. She was pretty and served a mean drink."

There's a flair of jealousy Nate can't control, and he has to remind himself that no matter what his vampire nature demands, Eliot didn't sign up to be his exclusive property. Eliot didn't realize what he was getting into when he set out to seduce Nate, and Nate can't expect him to never look at another human being again.

"God, you're easy to crank." Eliot murmurs with a grin, reaching for him. "Come here."

Nate sets the book aside, letting Eliot pull him closer, straddling over him and pressing him into the mattress. "Told you before, you shouldn't tease a vampire."

"Can't help it." Eliot's eyes are sparkling, his kiss wet and messy. "I love the way you get all possessive and jealous."

"You are a sick man, Eliot Spencer." Nate murmurs into the skin at the base of Eliot's neck. "Something not right in that head of yours."

Eliot groans and arches under him as Nate licks over the pulse point. "That's why you like me." Eliot grunts the words as Nate's hand finds its way into his boxers.

"I like you for lots of reasons." Nate counters, nipping lightly along his jaw, up to his ear. "Like you best when you fall apart for me." He whispers the words into Eliot's ear, stroking his cock.

"Gonna have to work harder than that." Eliot gasps, lifting his ass off the bed and hooking a thumb in the waist of his boxers. Nate helps get them down, tossing them off into some corner of the room.

"You forget, I know your weakness." Nate moves so that their cocks rub together, nothing but the thin layer of cotton of his own underwear between them. "Know how to drive you crazy…know how to make you come…"

"Getting better at holding on to it though." Eliot says it like a challenge. "Gonna make you work…"

"You can try." Nate responds, grinning against the skin of Eliot's stomach. His tongue circles his navel, dipping in a little before moving on, mapping the lines of hard muscle with his lips and tongue and teeth. Eliot's cock jerks in his hand every time he nips and Nate works his way up until he's laving over a nipple, eyes flicking to Eliot's face every few seconds.

The nipple is hard and standing up when Nate puts his teeth to it, making Eliot's next words disappear behind a whimpering squeak. Nate readjusts his grip on Eliot's cock, stroking it hard a few times as he opens his mouth, licking around Eliot's nipple several times before he leans in and bites.

Eliot's scream trails off into a gurgling sort of moan as Nate drinks, strokes, and Eliot's come oozes over his hand. Eliot falls loose and sated to the mattress and Nate lifts his face from his chest, licking the blood from his lips.

Eliot's eyes are heavy and lidded. "You play dirty."

Nate grins a little. "Vampire, remember?"

"Gimme sec?" 

Nate lays down beside him, draws him in against him. "Sleep."

"Owe you." Eliot's voice is already deepening, slowing.

"I'll collect in the morning." Nate murmurs, watching Eliot slowly succumb to the pull of sleep. There are still issues to talk about, things that need saying…but for the moment, he's content to watch Eliot sleep, and hope he still has time to save the rest of the team.

 

The message left for him at the front desk only said "1pm, coffee shop on the corner." Eliot fumes about the expectations of being subject to the woman's whims, and the demand for a daytime meeting until Nate interjects to tell him that the woman was a vampire too, so the only person totally comfortable at the table would be Eliot.

It's a cloudy day, but stray bits of sunshine make the walk uncomfortable, Nate's hands deep in the pockets of his coat, hat pulled low to protect his face.

She's already there when they arrive, another folder on the table beside her foamy looking coffee. "Thank you for being punctual. Please sit down."

"Just tell me what it is he wants."

Her eyebrow lifts, but other than that she doesn't move. "Please sit down, Mr. Ford. We will do business like civilized beings or not at all."

Eliot's hands fist and Nate shakes his head at him, pulling out a chair. Eliot grabs a chair from a nearby table and straddles it. "Fine. I'm sitting. Now, tell me what this is about."

Her smile is not very reassuring. "The man I represent has authorized me to negotiate a suitable transaction with you, Mr. Ford. In recent happenings, you and your…associates have cost Mr. Marquez a sizeable amount of money. In return, he has seized several of your assets. However, he is not pleased with this acquisition and is willing to consider a trade."

Nate has a sinking feeling about this acquisition. "Last I knew, I wasn't missing any assets."

Her fingers tap on the folder. "You should keep a closer eye on them then, Mr. Ford."

She pushes the folder over the table and Nate pulls it in, lifting the cover and wishing instantly he hadn't. He doesn't show Eliot, just closes the cover and levels his eyes on this woman. "So?"

She seems to like his directness. "You acknowledge that those belong to you?"

He nods tightly. "Yes."

"Mr. Marquez is not interested in these properties. He has certain…preferences. Two of these are entirely too…female and the third, while sufficiently male, is…too easily broken. Therefore, he is willing to return them to you in exchange for something more to his liking."

Her eyes dart to Eliot, then back and Nate sits back, shaking his head. "No deal."

"Let me be very clear. Should you refuse this most generous offer, your property will be sold at auction to the highest bidder."

Beside him, Eliot was a hot line of barely contained anger. If Nate said the word, he'd kill the woman seated across from them right there in front of everyone in the shop…and Nate knew he was armed to do just that too.

"I need some time to consider my options."

She nods and stands, dropping money on the table to cover her bill. "You have until 5pm this evening. You'll find an address and instructions in the folder. See that you follow them."

 

They don't speak as they leave the coffee shop. Nate grips the folder tight and even though Eliot hasn't seen inside of it, he has an idea what's there. He holds out his hand for it, but Nate pulls it away and Eliot has had enough. His hand closes over Nate's wrist, shoving him back into the wall of some building, hard.

"Give me the fucking folder."

"I'm not giving you to him."

"Give me the fucking folder." Eliot snatches it away as soon as Nate lifts it. He's not surprised by the picture inside. Parker, Hardison and Sophie, all gagged and bound with this morning's paper in their laps. "Shit." Behind the picture is a piece of paper with an address and a note.

> The pet comes alone, unarmed. Our car will be waiting. I will open the door, the others will exit the car, the pet will get in and the transaction will be finalized.

"Nate."

This time it's Nate that shoves him into the wall, arm over his throat. "No."

Eliot's eyes flick up to the sun that's starting to edge into their shade. "Lets talk about it inside."

Nate steps back, drops his hands. "Nothing to talk about."

"Fine, lets still do it inside." Eliot drags him to the elevator, into the suite. "Nate—" he starts again, only to have Nate kiss him.

"No. I said no. We'll find another way."

"What? In less than four hours? Without Hardison's computer skills? Without Parker's ability to break into anything? There's no time for a con, and the fucker knows our faces."

"Just let me think. I need to think." Nate's phone is in his hand, but he doesn't have anyone to call, because Eliot's right, everyone either of them would call for something like this is already in the hands of the enemy.

Eliot shakes his head and crosses to the wet bar, pours two long drinks of hard alcohol and hands one to Nate. After downing his Eliot draws in a deep breath. "Okay, so here's the plan. You follow behind me and pick the others up after…" Eliot turns away. "That way, you know Marquez kept his end of the deal and you can get them…out of there…"

"Eliot."

He holds up his hand and goes for more whiskey. "No, see…the four of you are better at this kind of thing. I just…butt heads and break bones. You four…you plan, you…you'll find me." He sips at the alcohol and turns to Nate, though his eyes never really make it past his chest. "You'll come for me."

"I won't let you." Nate takes the glass away from him. "I can't let you."

"Me for the three of them Nate…and it's my fault anyway…this whole mess. They'd never be in this if I hadn't pushed you."

Nate closes his eyes and shakes his head. "No…it isn't your fault. I should have known Marquez wasn't going to disappear quietly. Should have protected them—You have no idea what you're walking into…what he'll do to you."

"It doesn't matter. He's got us in this Nate."

"Give me two hours." Nate says, crowding in to Eliot, pushing him up against the bar. "Just…don't do anything stupid, let me call in a few favors."

Eliot closes his eyes and nods, let's Nate believe whatever he needs to believe to get through this. He presses a kiss to Eliot's forehead and darts out of the room, his drink untouched on the table. Eliot knows there's only one way to make this right, and nothing Nate finds in the next two hours is going to change that.

But that leaves Eliot with hours to kill and no willing, horny vampire to kill them with…leaves him with far too much time to think about the way Nate told him that Eliot would have been lucky if Marquez just killed him…and all the terrible things that could mean.

What he really wants is something to take his anger out on, a good fight to wear him out. He stalks around the suite, drinks more of the whiskey, but all it does is burn without helping.

He opens the file again, looking down at the faces of people he didn't know a year ago, people who somehow became friends…people he wouldn't let be sold into the hell he imagined was awaiting them…him.

Nate's two hours are long since up, and it is closing in on four. Eliot paces, his phone in his hand, but he didn't know who to call. He flips the phone open, thumbing through Nate, Sophie, Parker, Hardison, a few contacts that helped him line up jobs, and at the bottom was one more.

He hasn't spoken to her in years, she thinks he's dead and gone. He watched her bury a casket with his name on the grave years before, though she never saw him there. It was safer that way, for her, for him. Still, his thumb hovers over the button, and before he can stop himself he's pressing and the call is connecting. It rings three times before her voice rumbles through the phone, sleep heavy and confused and he realizes it's the middle of the night where she is and he can't talk anyway.

He hangs up, his thumb caressing over the screen. "Just wanted to say goodbye." He sniffles, pulls back the tears and drags in air. He's almost out of time. The door bursts open as he's heading for it, Nate looking wild and afraid until his eyes find Eliot.

"Don't—" Nate steps into the room, grabbing for Eliot and kissing him deeply. "You can't go, I have…things I need to say."

Eliot looks at the clock. He's got about twenty minutes. "Nate…save it."

"No, you need to know how I feel."

"Really? Now?" Eliot pushes the hair out of his face and looks up at Nate with a frown. "Now is when you want to do this?"

"Yes. Now." Nate responds, clearly angry that Eliot is challenging him. "Right the fuck now."

"Now is not the time for this." Eliot counters, pushing Nate away and heading for the door of the suite. Nate's hand grabs his arm, stopping him and yanking him back. 

"If you walk out the door we won't get another chance." His voice is a growl of anger and, Eliot is startled to realize, fear. 

"Nate, I'm running out of time. You can tell me later." Eliot exhales, tries to calm his racing heart. "We don't have a choice."

Nate softens, pulling Eliot to him. "I can't..."

Eliot presses a soft kiss to his lips. "Come for me, Nate."

He pulls away before he can lose his nerve, before Nate can fight through his indecision and force him to stay. The door closing behind him sounds hollow, and the sinking of the elevator echoes the sinking of his heart.

 

Nate's following him, there's no way he couldn't. Eliot can feel him, moves a little faster to get to the rendezvous point before Nate can find a way to fuck this up and get someone killed.

The car is there, the woman standing beside it, red hair neatly pulled back, her arms crossed. "Lets do this." Eliot says, trying to hide the fear thrumming through him under bravado.

She doesn't respond, just opens the back door of the limo. Parker emerges first, her hands bound behind her, a dusky bruise darkening her jawline. Sophie is next, missing a shoe and a scrape down one cheek. Hardison maybe looks the worst and he won't lift his eyes to Eliot as he lists slightly to the left and into Sophie. His eyes are hazy and the lump on his forehead looks nasty.

Eliot forces himself to smile at them, like this ain't the end of the world. "Nate's not too far behind. Just, wait out of sight." Eliot says softly as he moves closer "It's okay. Everything is going to be fine." He stops to pull the knife from his boot, uses it to cut Parker free, then hands her the knife with a kiss on her cheek. He kisses Sophie, who's already crying. "Tell Nate…" She nods, but neither of them can say anything and he turns to Hardison, but he still won't look at Eliot. "Make sure he gets that looked at."

They shuffle away from the car, Parker holding the knife like it's a lifeline. "Anymore weapons, Pet?" the woman asks and Eliot shakes his head. "Then get inside." She shoves him, her small hand surprisingly strong and Eliot stumbles into the dark interior of the limo, landing on his knees.

A gloved hand fists in his hair and lifts his head. "Well, well, well…last I saw you, you were half way to dead in the desert…that means you must be terribly strong. I'm going to have fun finding your breaking point."

He's yanked from the floor and teeth sink into his throat, dragging him nearly to the point of unconsciousness so fast he isn't even aware of the come filling his boxers.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nate and his team continue searching for Eliot, who is suffering at the hands of his captor. Nate and Sophie "talk".

He's too late. He knows it in an instant and it stops him. He falters, his knees wobbling. Eliot's gone. He can feel the cold, feel the way his body betrays him, the dark covers him and Nate knows Marquez has drank him down, far enough that Eliot can't feel anything.

Nate stumbles a little, pulling himself out of the vague light of the overcast day and into the shadows of a rundown building to get his bearings. He needs to focus, but his body is fighting him, his hunger doubled now that he knows what he wants most is out of his reach. 

He isn't far from the pickup spot, and judging from the picture his people were hurt. Nate steps back out to the street, hails a taxi and gives the driver the address. 

The rain is just starting as they pull to a stop and Nate's stomach lurches when he sees them. Sophie seems to be the most functional, leaning against the fence, her arms around Hardison who looks like he shouldn't even be standing. Parker stirs first though and together she and Sophie steer Hardison to the cab. Nate moves into the front seat. 

"Nearest hospital, please." Nate says softly to the driver, looking over the seat at Sophie. The whole car is quiet as they drive and when they stop, Nate sends Parker for a wheelchair while he pays the driver and helps Sophie get Hardison out of the car and into the chair. 

There's a mean knot on his head, but Nate can't see any other signs of trauma, though he assumes they're there. "Do you know what happened to him?" Nate asks Sophie as softly as he can, but Hardison still stiffens.

"He hasn't said a word since they put us together." 

Nate nods and settles a hand on his shoulder, squatting beside him. "I need to know, Alec…so the doctor's can take care of you." 

He blinks, tries to look at Nate, then looks away. Parker's hand on his pulls Nate's attention. He stands and lets her pull him away. "Torture. Electric shock at least, maybe more." She blinks and clears her throat. "Saw that much before they caught me."

"Okay, let's get him inside." He lets Sophie push the chair and talk to the admitting nurse. He's shaking when they finally come and take Hardison back to examine him. 

"You okay?" Sophie asks as she joins him and Parker near a row of plastic chairs.

He shakes his head, because he's so far from okay, he doesn't know where to start. He wants a drink. Check that, needs one, because he can hear the blood pumping through the two women and it's making him crazy with hunger. 

"Eliot…" he starts, but he doesn't really know what to say. His knees quiver and he sits hard and covers his face with his hands. They don't press him and together they sit in silence and wait for the doctor.

When she finally emerges and approaches, Nate stands, one hand on Parker's shoulder for balance. "Mrs. Hardison?" Her eyes dart between Parker and Sophie until Parker lifts her hand uncomfortably. "Your husband is going to be okay. He's got a pretty severe concussion and he seems to have lost a lot of blood, though we didn't find any wound to attribute that to."

Nate closes his eyes at the thought of Marquez feeding from Hardison. When he found the fucker, Nate was going to rip his cock off and split open his major arteries and leave him in the goddamn sun to shrivel up and die.

"We're re-hydrating him and getting some blood into him. He'll need to stay here at least tonight so we can keep an eye on the head injury."

"Can we see him?"

The doctor's smile is soft as she nods. "Of course. We're just getting him settled into a room."

Nate follows along behind the women, not really paying any attention to where they are until they're in the room. There's a bag of blood hanging off Hardison's IV stand and Nate has to look away. He hasn't had this much trouble controlling himself in a long, long time.

"Nate?" Parker's hand is on his and he pulls away. "Okay, that's it. Get out of here and deal with it. We'll keep an eye on him."

He wants to argue, but if he stays in the room any longer, he's going to do something he'll regret. He pulls the gun from his jacket pocket and presses it into her hand. "Protect yourselves. I'll be back."

He stumbles out of the hospital into dark that descended while they were inside. It doesn't take him long to find a pub and in moments, he's dropping his second empty glass on the bar. With the alcohol to dull the edges, he can focus a little more. He still needs to feed…but it isn't so pressing a need as it had been. He can function.

Nate drops money on the bar and stands, his eyes scanning the room. It's early evening and the pub is largely empty. If they were home, he'd only need to go to his fridge to feed…but then if they were home, he'd maybe still have Eliot.

He shakes his head and pushes out of the pub, heading back to the hospital. Maybe he can get Parker to steal him some blood. He's almost to the hospital when he hears a yell and turns to find some guy running toward him with a purse and a woman half heartedly chasing after him.

Nate grabs the thief, dragging him into a dark alley. "You picked the wrong day to be an asshole." Before he can stop himself, Nate drains him, grabbing the purse and dropping the thief into the deep shadows behind a pile of trash. He wipes his face and emerges from the alley, handing the woman back her purse.

She's dumbfounded, stuttering through "thank you" and other things that Nate shakes off as he walks away. He pushes the guilt away. He doesn't have time for guilt. He has to find Eliot. Before Marquez figures out how to break him.

 

The dark recedes slowly, doesn't completely go away, even as he lifts his head and opens his eyes. The room undulates around him, making him wonder if he's been drugged. He blinks and tries to force his eyes to focus, but he gives that up when his head starts pounding.

Instead he closes his eyes and tries to figure out how fucked he is. 

It's obvious he's naked, but he'd sort of expected that. Of greater concern is the level of restraint involved. He can't move his arms or his legs, even his fingers. His head has a small amount of room to move.

He tries opening his eyes again, but the room is still moving. His stomach is sick, like he's had too much to drink. He breathes slowly, calls on years of training to rein in the fear and the panic that comes with the restraint. 

He starts with his hands, concentrating on feeling the strength of the restraints. His hands are behind his back, and from what he can tell, his fingers are interlaced, matching fingers from opposite hands lashed together, palms pressed together and there's leather around the knuckles and more around his wrists. There's something between his elbows, lashed to his arms, holding them firmly.

There's a collar around his neck, thick and holding his head up, keeping him from much more than turning his head to either side. He breathes in deep, licks his lips and forces himself to stay calm. There's a strap coming off the collar, down his spine. It travels the length of his back, narrowing as it reaches his ass.

Eliot can feel the plug inside him, connected to the strap, connected to another strap that moves under him. His cock and balls are held tight. He swallows and forces himself to continue his analysis. 

He's laying on his side on a cold floor. There's a bar between his legs, just above the knees, leather cuffs holding it in place, keeping his knees apart. There's another between his ankles, making it so he cannot begin to move his legs. In fact, it's pretty clear that trussed up like this he's about as helpless as a grown man can be.

Helpless isn't something Eliot is used to being. He tests each bond slowly and carefully, then a little less carefully. He succumbs to the panic for a minute and thrashes, ending up on his stomach, feet in the air before he gets himself under control again.

A door opens and Eliot turns his head in an effort to see. There's a low chuckle, then hands lifting him, setting him on his knees. "Rough night?"

Marquez squats in front of him, pushing hair out of Eliot's face. "Your reputation precedes you, so I figured that for the first little while, we'd keep you safely put away. Be a good boy and play nice and maybe I'll consider loosening up a little." His hand slid down Eliot's face to the collar. "This though…its very pretty. I think we'll keep it."

"Nate is going to kill--" Marquez backhands him hard, splitting Eliot's lip.

"I've told you before. Slaves don't speak." Marquez licks the blood from his hand and smiles coldly. "I'm not like your former master, Slave. You will be silent and you will be obedient or you will be dead."

"I ain't your slave--" Again with the hand, knuckles slamming into Eliot's cheekbone.

"I can see you need to be taught lessons the hard way." Marquez holds out his hand and one of his men puts something in his hand. "Lucky for you, that means I'm intrigued. I always did like a challenge." 

His strong hand pulls Eliot's chin, opening his mouth and shoving something hard inside. It fills his mouth, presses against his gag reflex. Before Eliot can spit it out, Marquez is strapping it on, pulling the strap tight behind Eliot's head. 

"That should keep you quiet for a while." Marquez stands and stares down at him. "I have some business to attend to. We'll have a little fun when I return."

 

Nate's half way through a very expensive bottle of scotch when Parker and Sophie help Hardison into the suite. He still hasn't said a word to Nate, barely anything to Parker. Nate puts his glass down and moves to the couch where Sophie settles Hardison.

Alec's eyes lift to his, but then away. Nate touches his head and leans in, smelling deeply. He can still smell Marquez all over him, but he didn't feed on the hacker. Nate frowns and lifts his arm, his thumb caressing over Hardison's elbow. "He bled you."

Nate releases him and paces away, back to his glass. He drains it and reaches for the bottle, but Sophie's hand stops him. "Do you think you need more?"

"That depends, do you want to have all of your blood in the morning?" Nate closes his eyes when she cringes. "Just…it helps, okay?"

She doesn't respond, but leaves him to the booze. 

Nate sips at the drink and watches Hardison for a moment. It was clear to him now what had happened. Marquez had bled Hardison, weakened him without all the emotional attachment of feeding directly from him. Probably saved the blood for a rainy day. It wasn't a whole lot different than getting it from blood banks…except for the involuntary part of it. 

Then the bastard had tormented Hardison, tortured him into telling Marquez anything and everything. "I'd like a moment alone with Hardison, ladies."

"I don't think--" Sophie stops when she sees his face, gathering Parker with a nod of her head in the direction of the door. When it's closed, Nate crosses to Hardison, sitting on the coffee table and sighing softly. "I know you probably feel like crap right now. I know, believe me. But we need you, Alec." Nate lifts the glass between them. "I want you to drink this and take a deep breath. Then you can tell me whatever it is you need to tell me and we can put it behind us and find a way to save Eliot. Okay?"

Hardison takes the drink and stares at it for a minute before sipping it and swallowing. "You'll hate me," he says after a long silence. "Kill me maybe…I…didn't want to." His eyes lift, tears gathering in the corner. "You gotta believe me, I tried to…be like Eliot…strong…but you know I'm not…I'm just a hacker…just a…" His voice trails off and he lifts the glass again. "I won't blame you if you do…kill me I mean."

"Hardison, I'm not going to kill you." Nate says as gently as he can. "Just tell me."

"He…I don't know how he found me. But he…they beat me up pretty good, grabbed me, stuffed me in a van…they…stuck a needle in my arm and I almost passed out…then came the jumper cables…when they started asking questions I didn't even know where I was."

Nate nods, closing his eyes and figuring the rest. Hardison probably told them where to find Nate and Eliot, what aliases they were using, maybe more. "It's okay, Alec. It isn't your fault."

"Like hell." He stands, draining off the last of the alcohol in the glass and shoving it back at Nate. "Eliot would never have…not that easily. He would have kept his mouth shut. He would have taken the pain and not given up his friends."

"We all have a breaking point, Alec." Nate says, standing and following him to the window. "And Marquez knows how to read people, figures out exactly what each person can take. Trust me when I tell you that if we don't find Eliot, Marquez will break him."

 

His skin is slicked with sweat and breathing around the gag is becoming difficult. His jaw hurts, his shoulders pulse with agonizing pain. Each blow makes them hurt that much more, pushing his head down, pulling on the plug in his ass, on his cock and balls. Fingers thread through his hair, pull his face up. 

"What a pretty shade of red."

Eliot swallows carefully around the intrusion of the gag. It isn't a good sign that he's already lost track of how long this has been going on. Marquez releases his head and moves behind him. 

"Bet you really want to hurt me, don't you? Thinking about all the ways you'd like to beat me, kill me?" 

Marquez pulls Eliot back, rocks his head back until he's choking on the collar and the gag. "Or maybe you're thinking your friends will find you. Maybe they will. Maybe I'll let them…but not until you're a broken husk of the man you were…bled out, beaten down, useless to anyone."

His fingers play along the collar, his tongue following. "Foreplay's over, ready to show me how much you want me?"

The bite is hard, deep into his shoulder. Eliot fights against the arousal, against the rush of adrenaline, but before Marquez is pulling away, his cock is spent, the smell of come ripe in the air.

 

He's still in London. Nate knows it, can feel it. He stalks the streets from sunset to sunrise, prowls the dark…but it's a big city and he'll never find Eliot this way. It just gives him something to do, and keeps him well fed.

He's never been a voracious feeder, and aside from the revenge he took in Phoenix, his killing has always come from necessity, not hunger. Now though, his hunger is driving him crazy, his need for Eliot increasing each day that Eliot was gone.

The bland, cold blood Parker brings him isn't enough. In fact, it is barely tolerable. He takes them hard, fast, in the wee, small hours of the morning, in dark alleys and dirty bathrooms…but they aren't the one he wants.

They were criminals for the most part, though that did little to ease his conscience considering most would consider him a criminal too anymore…all the more true with every life he took.

The more blood he drank, the less alcohol he needed, the stronger he felt, the clearer his mind. Okay, maybe not clearer. More focused.

It's been more than a week and they don't have the first clue where to find him. 

Nate circles his prey, catches him just before he would have raped a young woman. Drinks him, drops him to the dirty alley floor where he'd dragged the girl for the deed. There's hot blood on his face as he lifts it to scream up at the moon, but before he opens his mouth, he catches a faint scent…familiar.

Nate wipes his face on his sleeve, turning toward the scent. It's vague, a tender whiff like perfume escaping out an opening door. He follows it down an alley, loses it at the main street behind the smells of exhaust and the city.

He growls and turns back, tries to pick up the scent again. It isn't Eliot, it's lighter, less human. Vampire. Nate circles the place where he dropped his victim, narrowing in until the scent is gone completely.

He only knows a handful of others, and most of those only by reputation. So it's either the woman whose name he never got or Marquez himself. He makes note of the area and races daylight back to his hotel to tell Hardison to re-focus the search.

They've moved three times in the last week, changed aliases, separated and come together again…all in an effort to keep Marquez off of them. Nate had no doubt that Eliot would only keep him occupied and sated for a certain time, then he'd want to exact revenge for the money. 

Hardison is already on the computer when he gets in, or maybe he never left it, judging by the tired, bloodshot eyes, the same clothes he's been wearing for days and the piles of empty soda cans.

Nate pulls the map off the wall and shoves it at Hardison. "Here." He points to the area. "One of them was here less than an hour ago."

Hardison blinks, rubs his eyes and takes the quivering paper out of Nate's hands. "I read better when the target isn't moving."

His eyes narrow. "That's all…industrial and commercial property…should be…" He sets the map aside and turns to the computer, flipping through screens. "Yeah, got a ping on something in that area, but it's just an increase in crime rates."

"What kind of crime?" 

Hardison's fingers move over the keyboard and he nods. "Murder. Three in a six block radius in the last month."

"Find out who owns every building on that block. I want blueprints and pictures."

"On it."

"After he sleeps." Sophie's standing in the door to the adjoining room she and Parker are sharing, the hotel bathrobe open to reveal something shiny and pink underneath. "He hasn't slept in days, Nate. He won't listen to me."

Nate turns to look at Hardison. "No, she's right. Go sleep."

Hardison shakes his head. "I can sleep when I know he's safe."

Sophie moves into the room, her touch on Hardison's arm gentle. "We won't find him at all if you burn yourself out. Look at you, you're exhausted. You haven't left that chair except to go to the bathroom in almost two days. Eliot wouldn't want you killing yourself to find him."

"Okay, fine. An hour or two. If I can even sleep." Hardison lets Sophie herd him to the bedroom door.

Nate knows he should probably sleep too, but he's amped up, the blood pumping through him hot. 

"You okay?" Sophie asks gently as she rejoins him, gesturing to the blood on his sleeve when he looks at her quizzically.

"Oh, that…yeah. Caught some guy trying to rape a girl. I stopped him."

"Permanently?" There's no real accusation in her tone, but he feels one there anyway as he paces around her.

"Doesn't matter."

"Don't think I haven't noticed." She pours coffee from the coffee pot on the sideboard and sits almost delicately on the couch, watching him.

"You don't understand." 

"Then explain it to me." 

He tries sitting, but he's too wired, so he gets back up to pace more. "A vampire can exist without…well, without killing…but without feeding on the living at all. It isn't optimal, isn't what we want, but it can be done. It's kind of like eating a veggie-burger when what you really want is a steak."

"So the blood Parker steals from food banks…"

"Veggie-burger…it's enough to keep a vampire alive, but it's kind of an acquired taste. Killing is instinctual, the blood that comes from taking a human life is meat, steak…it makes us strong, powerful."

"What does that make Eliot?"

Nate groans a little, turns away from her as the desire for Eliot sweeps through him. "When a vampire feeds and leaves a victim alive, it's kind of like getting hooked on a really potent drug. Because our bodies crave all of it, and not killing is…our bodies know the job isn't finished. The blood we take is nourishing, empowering, but it isn't like this. I've never felt like this."

Finally he sits in the chair, kicking his legs up on the coffee table. "I've never felt this strong, this alive."

"You've never fed this much before." Sophie observes, sipping at her coffee. 

"Never."

"And when we get Eliot back?"

Nate frowns at her, not sure he follows her meaning. "We go home. Back to normal."

She nods slowly. "Where normal is you being a vampire and Eliot being your…what exactly?"

Nate growls and stands again. "It isn't like that."

"No? That's what it looks like."

He crosses to the sideboard and pours himself a shot of the cheap whiskey he'd bought a few nights before. He doesn't really need it, want it…but it gives him something to do. "Well, it isn't."

"What is it then? You drink from him, have sex with him? What is that?"

He closes his eyes and feels the guilt rush into him. "I never wanted this, Sophie. You have to know that. I've held myself back from anyone and everyone since Maggie because I never wanted anyone to get stuck in this with me." He takes a sip out of his glass and turns to face her. "That's why you and I never…why I would never…"

She sets her cup down and stands. "But somehow Eliot made you?"

Nate nods as she crosses to him. "He took advantage of a moment of weakness."

"So, which came first, Nate? The sex or the blood?" She's touching him, her body sliding over his and with so much blood pumping through him the smell of her is intoxicating.

"Don't start something you can't finish." Nate warns, his hands held out away from her body.

"What you're telling me is that Eliot seduced you." Sophie's hands move over his hips, thighs, then one is cupping his cock, fingers sliding along its hardening length. 

"Sophie." His voice is dark, deep and low in warning, but she seems to have made up her mind about what she wants.

"Was he insistent? Demanding?" Her thigh slides between his, pressing up into his cock, freeing up her hand to move to his zipper. "Did he undress you? Tease you?"

Nate drops the glass as she gets her hand inside his pants, his hand sliding into her hair, fisting and pulling when she would have slid to her knees. "You don't tease a vampire," he says through clenched teeth. "You want to know, Sophie?"

He moves them back toward the couch. "He stuck my face in a bleeding wound to get me to feed on him instead of the mark…and when it came to the sex…" He presses her back on the couch, his free hand pushing her legs apart, sliding up her thigh to her pussy, pushing into her with two fingers and coming out wet. 

Nate's cock finds its way to her opening and he uses his hand in her hair to hold her head, bare her neck as he thrusts into her. "I took him over the counter in my kitchen, ripped his clothes off him and fucked his ass."

He loses himself for a moment in the motion, fucking her hard, harder than he needs to…maybe harder than she wanted, but she's moaning in time to his thrusts, her feet pressing against his ass, pulling him closer. 

Her eyes are closed as he comes, his teeth bared, his fangs fully extended. He curses and pulls out, pulls away. "Fuck." 

"Nate—"

Nate shakes his head, holds up his hand. "Don't." 

She's moving, getting up. Nate moves away, shaking now that he's given in to the needs of his body despite promising himself he wouldn't. "Just…I'm sorry." Nate says softly. "I shouldn't have…"

She doesn't touch him, just moves back toward the bedroom door. "I'm sorry too."

She disappears behind the bedroom door and Nate folds in on himself. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!" He yells and kicks at the wastebasket near the desk, sending it hurtling into the back of the sofa. His hand closes around the neck of the bottle and he lifts it, tipping it back, letting the whiskey burn some sense into him.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team finally finds a lead, and a new/old ally and Nate risks everything to get Eliot back.

_"You know, this thing with Eliot…I never meant for it to be like this. I never wanted to do this to anyone."_

Nate's voice, filled with guilt and pain rolls around in his head. 

He didn't want this. Eliot hears it different. Nate never wanted him. 

He grabs onto the thought, lets it pull him out of himself, out of the pain, out of himself. Marquez knows how to work a man, knows how to take him to the limits of his endurance and pull back just enough to keep him from blacking out…because what fun is a victim who can't feel what you're doing to him?

Nate had said the words, said that he didn't want this. Eliot knew that…it was obvious in the way the man shied away anytime Eliot got too close, crossed a line. Nate had said that they weren't friends. But Eliot did what Eliot always does, because he can't take no. Can't take that passive rejection. 

He pushed and manhandled and forced until he got what he wanted... consequences be damned. He'd pushed Nate into this twisted, wrong, fucked up thing because Eliot couldn't let the power go, not once he knew the truth.

And this is where it led them. 

Eliot pants through the next set of blows, low over his ass and thighs, sharp pain lancing through him as the skin opens, then the warm comfort of a tongue laving over them…the anticipation for the bite that isn't coming…not just yet. Marquez isn't done with him.

He thinks maybe this is better…for Nate anyway…cuts him loose, frees him from the obligation Eliot forced on him. Nate would get over the need, get past the craving...he'd forget...except…

He's not expecting the tongue on his split lip, his eyes closed tight against the sharp lights on him. It presses against the wound, makes it bleed again, then lips close around it and he sucks the lip into his mouth, pulling more blood from him. Eliot grunts and tries to pull back, but his bindings won't let him move.

Eliot had told him to come, told Nate to find him...and Nate, fucking stubborn bastard that he was, would…he wouldn't let it rest until he had. Even if that meant getting himself killed.

Eliot lost the thought, lost everything but the memory of Nate's hand in his hair, his mouth on his neck, as the pain became too much to block out. Marquez was done with his lip, moving back to his marked up ass. The cat o'nine tails ripped another set of holes into his skin, digging deeper than before. He held his voice, wouldn't give the fucking bastard the satisfaction of hearing him scream. Not yet...not yet...

When the bite finally comes, it is on Eliot's thigh. Eliot pants through the orgasm, fighting to hold on, but eventually Marquez drinks enough that his ability to do anything fades and the black claims him.

 

"Nate?" He growls and pulls the blankets back over his head, hiding from the light, from sobriety, from the memory of what had happened. He doesn't want to be bothered, talked to, doesn't want to deal with anyone, least of all her.

There's frantic whispering though, her and Parker and Nate shifts enough to peer out from under the blanket. Sophie pushes Parker toward him. "I…um. This came for you."

She holds out her hand and the box in it. Nate shifts, sits up and reaches for it tentatively. The label is made out to Nathan Ford, but no one should know where he is. His free hand fumbles on the nightstand for the last of the whiskey he'd left there before passing out, draining the bottle and tossing it aside before turning to the box. 

Its wrapped tight in brown paper and tape. He can't smell explosives or anything though so he carefully opens one side, sliding a small box out of the paper. Inside the box is a sealed container. Nate lifts it slowly, eyes narrowing. There's no label, no note. Just the container. 

Just as slowly, he opens that, wishing instantly that he hadn't. The smell of Eliot assaults him even before the lid is fully off the container and his cock is hard, his body needy. Eliot's come fills the small jar, taunting him. He closes it quickly and fights to get control of himself.

"What is it?" Sophie asks tentatively from near the doorway.

"A message." Nate grinds out. He swallows and fights the urge to throw the damn thing. "From Marquez." Obviously all their moving around hadn't hidden them from Marquez. Once again Nate had underestimated him. He climbed out of bed, noting the way Parker danced out of his way and Sophie took a step backwards. "Somebody tell me something good."

 

Things are not good. Eliot can tell even before he opens his eyes. More of the restraints are gone. Which would normally mean a better chance at escape, but he'd left normal the day he'd let some aerospace freak talk him into working on a team with two other thieves and Nate. 

Fewer restraints meant Marquez didn't see him as much of a threat anymore.

Eliot opens his eyes, takes in the room. He's been moved again. This place is smaller, with bars. He's on the floor, on his side. His back and ass are raw and stiff when he moves. 

His feet are free, the butt plug and its harness to his balls and cock gone. His hands are bound in front of him now, in giant, heavy cuffs of black leather and steel. True to his word, Marquez had left the collar as well.

At least for the moment, he's alone. In the vague light he can see the marks on his skin, the measure of his torment. He wonders how long it will be before Marquez gets bored.

He shifts, up to his knees, which protest, the scabbed skin breaking open. He manages to get to his feet, but it makes him feel light headed and woozy, sending him back against the wall.

Dirty, stringy hair falls into his face, reminding him just how long this has gone on. Days…weeks even. Long enough that the earliest wounds have healed. He doesn't really have a way to measure…He stumbles down the wall, mapping out the size of the room, but before he can get all the way to the door, the weight of the restraints on his wrists pulls him down. 

The door opens, bright light falling into the room and over Eliot's body. A shadow blocks the light, then Marquez is squatting beside him. His hand holds Eliot's chin, turns his face. "Get him cleaned up. I want him ready in an hour."

He is gone and the door closed before Eliot can piece the words together and understand them. Ready for what, he didn't know, but a few minutes later two of the big guys were there, pulling him to his feet and dragging him out of the room, into another where they lifted his hands and secured the cuffs over his head, leaving him dangling where his feet barely touched the floor.

The water spray was harsh, pounding into him, slamming him around. They hosed him down, then soaped him up and hosed him down again before leaving him there to dry. 

A few minutes later, his feet are on the ground and he's escorted into yet another room where a man in a lab coat looks him over and gestures to a chair. His handlers drop Eliot into the chair and keep him there while the lab-coat prepares a syringe.

"Hey doc, gonna patch me up?" Eliot's voice is raw from disuse, or maybe from the screams Marquez had managed to rip out of him despite his will to stay silent. 

"Well, I'm sure this will make you feel better for a little while, son, but it isn't for you." The needle bites into him, cold leeching into him as the plunger was pushed in. "Tell Mr. Marquez that he has to give it time, not to go jumping in right away."

And with that, Eliot was up and out of the chair, being pushed back into the hallway and up a flight of stairs to where Marquez was waiting. He smiled that sick, twisted smile and held up a long piece of leather. "Time to put the pet on a leash." His hand came up with the leash, snapping it onto the collar. "Now see that you're a good pet and maybe I'll let you show everyone how pretty you bleed."

 

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

"You volunteering to come with me?" Nate asks, not really looking at her.

"We really should talk."

Nate finishes buttoning his shirt and shakes his head. "No, Sophie. We don't. It was wrong. It isn't going to happen again. End of story."

"I meant about you going in there like this. Alone."

Nate lifts his earpiece, checking it before sliding it in. "Hardison, can you hear me?"

"Loud and clear."

"See, not alone."

"That's not what I mean."

Nate turns to look at her. "You heard what Hardison said. Only vampires are getting in the door. Last time I checked, you aren't one."

"Surely you must know some other—"

Nate growls and storms around her, out of the bedroom and into the sitting room. He stops cold there though, and Sophie plows into him from behind. Parker looks particularly pleased with herself. Hardison on the other hand looks more than a little green. Not that Nate can blame him, the poor boy is just getting used to there being vampires at all, let alone one so close and here was another.

"Hello Nathan."

She's smaller than he remembers, petite, almost diminutive. Her hair is shorter, and darker, her skin paler, her eyes bluer. "Genevieve."

For the moment he can forget the others, forget everything except what she had given him, all those years ago…the way her tiny hand had held him, soothing him before she'd bitten.

"Leave us." Despite her size, Genevieve has the air of a queen, regal and commanding and none of them hesitate, crowding out through the door into one of the bedrooms. "Quite some team you have there."

"Yeah, they're great." Nate crossed his arms. "Why exactly are you here?"

"Parker called me. Said you might need some help."

"Don't you think you've helped me enough?" Nate shakes his head. He hadn't meant that the way it sounded. 

"I gave you a choice Nathan. You chose to become exactly what you are." She looks him over. "I'm here because I could tell, even on the phone, that Parker actually cares what happens to you. I don't know how long you've known Parker, but that's a rare thing for her. Made me think maybe you're in just a little over your head."

She waved him to a seat. "You make me nervous hovering like that. Sit."

"I thought it was your policy not to get involved in the politics of others." Nate said, sitting on the couch and making a show of trying to relax, even though he was humming with need to get out on the streets.

"It still is, but you are one of mine…and…it's bad form to steal a human from another vampire. In the old days, it would have gotten you staked out in the Sahara to watch the sunrise." She folded her hands in her lap. "So, Marquez is a bad piece of work and his appetites will foul us all eventually. He leaves a trail of bodies behind him."

"Is that your way of justifying being here?" Nate asks with a chuckle. "I haven't seen you since you turned me."

"I can go now if you like, leave you to it." She sits forward in the chair. "But I promise you, that if I do, you kiss your Eliot and your own ass goodbye."

Nate forces himself to calm himself, to meet her gaze. "Better. Now I can tell you've been feeding. That's good. I promise you that Marquez feeds daily, several times a day, and not just on your boy. You're going to need strength if you're going to go after him."

"I've never been so strong." Nate assures her. "Never felt like this."

"I hope so, because once you've started, you can't stop. You have to take him and you have to kill him, or he will kill you. But…" She sits back in the chair, hands once again folded in her lap. "…you will have to play by the rules. If I am going to intervene, there can be no hint of dirty play…"

"Intervene? How?"

Her smile is delightfully wicked. "Call him out. In front of the others, and I will see to it that no one else gets involved. Old fashioned challenge, old fashioned rules, old fashioned judge."

"What is it you're getting out of this?" Nate asks, genuinely curious.

"Revenge, if you win. Marquez is the offspring of an old rival. All the rest are gone. He's the last." She stands, looks him over once more. "You'd better feed well before you go. And I hope you've learned how to throw a punch or two. All that rage will only get you so far."

 

The sound and lights are overwhelming and Eliot stumbles as he follows Marquez into the darkened corner of what seems to be a nightclub, not unlike the one where they found Marquez in the first place…only this was clearly a place only for vampires and their pets. Each booth was deep with shadows and above and behind it was a cage.

Eliot bucks when it becomes clear that the cage is where Marquez means to put him, putting up a fight for the first time since he gave himself up. Two of Marquez's men grab him and lift him, shoving him into the cage and shutting the door before he can get himself together to attempt to get out.

Marquez sits in the booth, thanking a waitress who drops off a glass of something. Eliot fumes inside the cage, his eyes skimming over the room. 

"You know, the last person who kept me entertained as long as you have is now my assistant." Marquez says, though he doesn't look at Eliot. "You've met her, Alison? The red-head. I put her in the cage and she stood there proud as all hell, naked and marked up from my cane and whips and teeth. She couldn't speak her throat was so stripped from screaming, and she had to hold on to the bars to keep from falling down…but damn it was a sight."

Marquez lifts his drink and sips at it. "Honestly I figured you'd break before now. Maybe I'm losing my edge." 

Eliot's hands grasp the bars and he wills himself out of the crouch he's in, standing slowly. 

"You like that little cocktail the doc gave you? My own special blend. A little bit of me, some vitamins, some drugs to make you feel a little more yourself…helps close up some of the wounds, make you more presentable. Of course, the buyers coming to visit tonight think all the marking proves you're valuable, so not too much of the stuff." 

Marquez stands as two other men approach. Eliot can feel their eyes on him, weighing him. He's slow to put it together, Marquez's words with this place, these people.

Marquez means to sell him. Eliot doesn't even know if that's a good thing or worse than waiting for Marquez to just kill him.

 

"Hardison?"

"Yeah, I'm here." 

"I'm about a block away." 

"Sophie and Parker are finishing up. They'll be waiting at the rendezvous as planned."

"I'm going silent."

"Don't get dead. Er. Don’t get deader." Hardison is still rambling when Nate plucks the earpiece and sticks it in his pocket. 

The last thing he needs was Hardison's voice in his head while he prepares to go in after Eliot. And that's exactly what this is. Preparing. It is almost like getting into character for a con, only this is no con. 

Nate stops in the shadows of a hulking warehouse, pulling the container from his pocket. Just touching it makes him angry, but he forces himself to open it slowly, letting the smell of Eliot's come fill the air around him, breathing in deeply to trigger the sense memory. 

_Eliot's skin flushes under his hands, his mouth open as Nate presses into him, his head tipped back in offering as they grind together, closer and closer until Eliot's breathing is coming in pants and his body is trembling. Nate's kisses over sweaty skin become licks, and nips and finally he bites, drinking in deeply as Eliot's cock erupts._

That moment belongs to Nate, that feeling, that release….all of it was his. And Marquez had stolen it. Twisted it into some sick parody. Nate's hands shake as he closes the container. He's hungry, needy. The anger uncoils inside him like a snake, slithering through him until it flushes his skin with an artificial warmth.

He can smell his prey, doesn't think about who he is or why he's out here. Can't let himself be distracted by morality. Nate moves, closer to his target…finds him, drunk, reeking of liquor and cigarettes as he leans against a wall, peeing. He doesn't hear Nate, doesn't know he's about to die.

He doesn't make a sound except for the dull thud when Nate drops the body. Nate leaves him there and starts toward the address where the underground club is hidden under some factory. Cars line the otherwise deserted streets as he gets closer. 

He takes a driver, asleep at the wheel of his owner's car. Nearly to the door of the club he finds two bodyguards smoking while their charge is safely in the club. He knocks their heads together before they even know he's there, takes his time with them. 

By the time he's done, he's racing with the fire of fresh blood inside him, lust and rage spiraling through him. He rises, fists clenching and unclenching in a vain effort to keep it under control. But his senses are heightened with the strength, and he can smell them…both Eliot and Marquez…he can feel Eliot--trapped, angry, hurting--there's fear there too, a taste of guilt and hatred.

Nate stalks the last distance to the side entrance of the building, in a non-descript door and down a flight of stairs. He pauses in the shadows at the bottom, sizing up the length of the hallway to the door where two vampires stand guard. He turns the earpiece on long enough to say, "I'm here," so Hardison knows he's okay, then turns it off again, takes it out and puts it in his pocket.

Hardison can't help him with what comes next, and Parker and Sophie can only help him pick up the pieces when it's over. He bares his teeth to prove himself at the door, slides into the dark entryway of the club and lets his eyes adjust. 

All in all there are maybe fifteen vampires in the club, most adorned with a human pet or two. He should have expected London would have a big enough population to support a club like this. It's a good city for his kind.

Music keeps the conversations private, pounding out from hidden speakers at a volume that would keep human ears confounded and make vampire ears work to get beyond the noise.

The smell is stronger here. Eliot is in this room somewhere. Though finding him isn't as easy as looking for him. The dark was punctuated only with various red and blue neon lights, and the booths along the walls were recessed, hiding their occupants. 

Nate runs his tongue over his teeth, fangs still extended. "Nathan." The voice is low, under the music, under the din and it turns his head. There. A booth on the left. He sees her move, lift her glass in salute. 

Nate moves deeper into the club, feels eyes follow him. There's a feeling of caution in the air. These vampires don't know him, and he doesn't know them. He moves past the bar, along the line of booths, adjusting his count as he goes. Perhaps twenty five in all.

He follows the scent, seething. He sees Marquez before he sees Eliot, hissing as he stops beside the booth, shoving the table into Marquez and his companions to pin them into the booth.

"I have to say, I didn't expect to see you." Marquez says after a few minutes. "Come for a little taste?" He holds up a glass filled with blood while the vampires with him chuckle. "It's fresh." He lifts a tube that is still dripping blood and Nate's eyes follow it up behind Marquez to the cage. 

Eliot is on his knees, heavily cuffed hands dragging the floor of the cage, his eyes closed as he leans into the bars. The tube ends in the crook of his elbow where a needle digs into him.

Nate growls in the back of his throat shoving the table a little harder. Eliot's eyes flicker open, focusing slowly on Nate. "I'm here to take back my property. He belongs to me."

Marquez raises an eyebrow. "Not if you ask him. He tells me he belongs to no one. Or he did…until I shut him up."

Nate has to pull back the fury before he can speak again. "Get up. I'm issuing you a challenge. You violated my bond with him, stole him. Under the Code you owe me blood."

The smile drips off of his face and becomes a sneer. "No one has followed the Code since the clan wars ended. Go away before I have you handled."

One of the vampires in the booth with Marquez hisses. "We follow the Code here, Marquez. You have been issued a challenge, either answer it or be branded a coward."

"The Code is antiquated nonsense that led us nearly into extinction." Marquez counters. 

"And the anarchy of abandoning it has led us to lawlessness," a soft voice says at Nate's elbow. Suddenly the music stops and the eyes of everyone in the club is on their corner. "I am Genevieve, of the Alexander clan. A challenge has been issued. As elder I will validate the challenge."

There's a shuffling sound behind them as the whole club clears a space in the center of the floor. "Let him up, Nathan. He can not respond to a challenge while pinned to his seat."

Slowly, Nate relinquishes his hold on the table, backing away and peeling off his jacket. He can feel Eliot's eyes following him, but cannot spare more than a look as Marquez rises. Growling as he too sheds his outer layer of clothes. 

"I'm going to make you wish you'd died in that desert." Marquez spits at him as they circle each other.

Nate smiles. "I'm going to make you dead. Er." He laughs at his own joke, almost wishing he'd kept the earpiece on so Hardison could hear. 

Genevieve moves between them, holding up her hands. "A blood challenge has been issued. The matter will be settled here before these witnesses. All Code rules will be obeyed. No weapons, no assistance, winner takes all."

She's no sooner stepped out of the way than Marquez is charging at him. Nate lets him come, stepping aside at the last second and striking out with a fist that catches him in the throat.

Marquez doesn't go down, though he sputters and growls and grabs Nate by the shoulder, throwing him into a table. Drinks scatter and go flying as Nate pushes himself off the table and they close in on each other again. Both of them are in full vampire form, fangs extended, eyes black, brows raised, nails sharp. Nate growls and revels in the feeling. It isn't something he allows himself often.

Instincts take over, his vision narrows to Marquez as they clash. Fists pound, both of them hissing and growling as they connect. Nate's fist lands under Marquez's chin, but he takes a fist in the ribs at the same time. Bones crack and they stumble apart, only to come back together. 

Nails rake down his arm, and Nate yells before using his head to break his opponent's nose. Blood splatters over them both and Marquez screams, his hand grabbing Nate by the hair, nails digging into his scalp as his other fist slams into Nate's face until Nate grabs his arm.

Nate has Marquez by the wrist, yanking him off balance, despite the hand still in his air, teeth bared as he forces the wrist toward his mouth. His bite is vicious. Blood flows into him and he bites again and again until the hand is dangling by nothing but tendons. He lets go of the arm then, grabbing the hand and yanking to the sound of Marquez screaming.

There's a frenzy in the crowd as Nate tosses the hand and pulls away from Marquez who is staggering and holding his bloody stump up against his body. "I'm going to fucking kill you." Marquez spits and Nate can't help the grin on his face.

"With your bare hands? Oh, sorry. I mean hand." 

Marquez screams again and comes after him, though his pace is off and his balance seems to be gone as he staggers. "Blood loss getting to you?" Nate taunts as he moves out of reach. Nate ducks a punch, comes up under his reach, hands closing in the front of his shirt to drag him in close. "I'm gonna bleed you dry." His teeth puncture skin and he pulls on the wound, dragging blood out into his mouth before turning and spitting it onto the ground, leaving the wound leaking.

Nate lets him go, lets him stagger back, slipping in the blood on the floor. Marquez wipes at the bloody wound on his neck with his remaining hand and glares at Nate as he moves. 

"You should have heard the way he moaned for me when I took him." Marquez says. "Got hard for me when I beat him…he liked it when I cut him open and licked him clean."

Nate tracks his movements, watches as the blood loss weakens him. Let him keep talking…time is on his side now. There's a ruffle through the crowd and Nate feels icy fire plunge into him, turns, but Genevieve is already there, the red-headed associate of his enemy on her knees, Genevieve's blade at her throat.

Nate pulls the knife from his ribs and presses a hand to the messy wound. "Code law has been violated." Genevieve says into the silence just before the blade flashes and the red-head's eyes go dead as Genevieve separates her head from her body. "Continue."

Blood runs down his side now and Marquez is laughing. "How's your blood loss?" 

"I've got enough left in me to finish this."

"Then let's finish it."

The first blows are fast and furious, both of them pulling on their last resources to try to over come the other. Nate is tiring, the fury not enough anymore to keep him going. The smell of blood is all over them both, the slick floor treacherous as they fight, fall. 

Nate gets a knee on Marquez's elbow, pinning the arm down as he punches him repeatedly about the face. He isn't moving anymore and still Nate pounds on him, until a small hand touches him.

"Nathan."

His beating slows and he blinks, looking up. "It is over."

Nate looks down at the bloody face under him, bones broken and protruding from the skin. Genevieve's hand pats his shoulder and she raises her face to the room. "The matter is settled. The Code has been satisfied. Let it be known that all that belonged to the fallen now belongs to the victor."

Nate shakes his head. It isn't over. Not yet. He stands, bends to fist a hand in Marquez's hair, his foot on the vampire's shoulder. Teeth bared, he pours the last of his strength into his hands and pulls. 

Skin and bone make a sickening sound as they tear and Nate staggers back as the head comes loose. He holds it up, then drops it to the sticky floor. "Now it's over."

The crowd parts for him as he moves back to the booth, back to Eliot. 

"Eliot." Nate's voice sounds broken and rusted, but Eliot's eyes open, find him.

"Nate?" Eliot's voice is broken glass and gravel. Nate wrenches the door of the cage open, catching Eliot's weight as he falls forward. "Must be dreamin'." 

Nate cradles Eliot's body to him, sitting on the bench and minding the tube still dangling from his arm, the valve crimping it the only thing keeping Eliot from bleeding out. "No dream. It's me. I'm gong to get you to a hospital, okay? You're going to be fine."

Nate fishes the earpiece out of his pocket, his fingers trembling as he works on getting it turned on and into his ear. "Hardison, I'm done here. We're coming out."

"Eliot?"

Nate looks down at Eliot, his eyes closed again. "He's going to be okay. He has to be." Nate looks up at the others who are staring at him now. "Eliot, can you walk?"

"Get these things off me." Eliot says, weakly moving his hands. Nate reaches for the locks, growling. "I don't have the keys."

"Allow me." 

Nate looks up at one of the men who had been with Marquez. In his hands was a key that he used to open the locks. "We had arranged a transaction…which is now, of course, void."

"Thank you." Nate helps Eliot get his feet on the ground and pushes them both up off the bench. The crowd parts as they limp through them, leaning on each other. Eliot groans as they reach the stairs. 

"Really?"

Nate chuckles, wincing as the wound in his side pulls. "Really…but Sophie and Parker are waiting at the top." 

It's a struggle, and Eliot's nearly unconscious by the time they reach the top, but when Nate gets the door open, Sophie's there, already reaching in to help him. Together they maneuver Eliot into the van, laying him as gently as they can on the pile of blankets before pulling the door closed. Parker has them moving before the door is shut and Nate sinks to a seat on the floor beside Eliot, swallowing slowly.

"Marquez?" Sophie asks soft, though her eyes are on Eliot, assessing his wounds.

"Gone. Dead." Nate responds. "Never to bother us again."

"Good. What about you?"

Nate considers that for a moment. He's plenty beat up, and still bleeding, but all of that would heal eventually. "I'll live."

"We brought you a change of clothes and a first aid kit." Parker says after she's parked the van outside the nearest hospital and is crawling back beside him. "Cooler's in the front seat. Get back to the hotel, get some rest. We'll see to Eliot."

Nate looks at her in surprise. "I'm staying with Eliot."

She flicks him on the forehead. "Vampire. Hospital." She points out the window at the hospital. "Blood everywhere. You're about to pass out. You want to wake up in their morgue?" She shivers and shakes her head. "Trust me, not a good idea."

"We've got him, Nate." Sophie says softly. "We'll make sure he's safe."

Nate shakes his head, tries to argue, but Eliot opens his eyes. There's a plea there in the blue depths, and Nate nods. "Fine, but I expect an update as soon as you know anything."

He lets them go, the two women supporting Eliot between them and he tries not to panic when they disappear behind the hospital doors. He knows Parker is right, that going in there in the shape he's in would wind up with him waking up in the morgue at the very least. The other options weren't very appealing either.

So he did what Parker told him to do…bandaged up his wounds, changed his clothes, drank the blood and whiskey she'd brought him and headed for the hotel. Hardison opened the door as he got there, but thankfully said nothing as Nate stumbled past him into the bedroom, collapsing onto the bed.

It was over. All that was left was the recovery….which maybe meant it was just getting started.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting Eliot back doesn't solve all of their problems. Eliot and Nate struggle to come to terms with what has happened. Parker thinks they're both morons.

Eliot wakes suddenly, a feeling like he wasn't alone pulling him through the confusion of drugs and injuries and nightmares that cling to him even as he opens his eyes. 

The room is dark, but it clearly isn't the prison he last really remembers waking in. He feels heavy, but not tied down, not restrained in the classical sense. His eyes sweep the shadows.

Hospital. Tubes and wires stick out of him, run away to monitors and machines. 

The shadows nearest the window move, turn. Even in the dark Eliot knows. "Nate." His throat is raw, his voice scrapes through it like a razor blade and the shadows shift until Nate separates from them, moving to the bed with a finger to his mouth.

"Shh…don't…not yet." He sits on a stool at Eliot's side, tears shimmering in his eyes. He smiles softly, a hand lifting to brush over Eliot's face. "You gave me quite a scare…but you're going to be okay."

Eliot swallows around the pain, blinks. "Marquez?" His voice give out before the word ends, but Nate nods. 

"Gone. I took care of him."

Eliot thinks maybe he should be worried about that, maybe he should be concerned for Nate…or that despite everything they are together again, but he can't keep his eyes open and Nate is whispering words that Eliot can't seem to understand, and sleep seems so much more important than telling Nate he should go.

 

The next time he convinces his eyes to open, it's daylight and Parker is there as the nurse changes out his IV and withdraws. His throat isn't as sore, his body not as heavy. He blinks as Parker smiles at him.

"Hey." 

Eliot shifts and looks around the bright room. 

"We made him go get some sleep." She's sitting in the chair by the bed now, her feet under her. "We've been taking turns."

Eliot frowns a little and lifts a hand a lot less encumbered by machinery than before to rub an itchy nose. "You don't have to babysit." His voice is still rough, but it doesn't hurt so much to talk.

"Nothing better to do. Nate won't let us steal things…and none of us fly home for a few days." She crosses her arms and tries to look like she isn't concerned, but he can see it in her eyes. 

"How long?"

"Five days. The first two we couldn't pry Nate out of here."

Eliot can feel himself frowning. Parker's face echoes the frown. "What?" she asks and he shakes his head. 

"Nothing."

"That wasn't a nothing face. That was a something face." 

"No…I'm just…sore."

"Bullshit." She stands beside the bed, staring down at him. "Spill."

Eliot closes his eyes and turns his head away. He wishes she would go away now, but before he can express the desire, her hand is on his chest, pressing against bandages, against a wound. "Ow!"

"He nearly died saving you."

"Exactly." Eliot spits the word, pushing her hand away from him. "You all nearly died because of me."

She looks genuinely confused. "What?"

"I don't really want to talk about it, Parker."

"How's our boy today?"

Eliot turns his face to the wall as Hardison comes into the room. 

"He's a moron." Parker says, storming out of the room. "I don't get boys."

"I take it that means you're awake finally." Hardison says as Eliot hears him sit in the chair.

"Not for long." Eliot says softly, closing his eyes. The only problem with closing his eyes is that makes him remember. He longs for more of the good drugs, the dreamless sleep that comes with them. Instead he settles for ignoring Hardison and pretending…because at least that way he doesn't feel the need to talk.

Nate comes with the sunset, relieving Hardison. Eliot can hear them whisper at the door, but keeps his eyes closed, his breathing even. The door closes and Nate's presence moves closer.

"I know you're awake."

Eliot sighs and opens an eye. "Trying not to be."

"You know, Hardison is convinced you hate him."

"What?" Eliot turns, grimacing a little as pain registers. "Why?"

Nate pulls the chair closer. "There's a lot you don't know." He sits slowly. "Hardison was tortured. Bled, electric shock, beaten. He's carrying a lot of guilt."

"That's how Marquez found us." Eliot's stomach knots. "And I sat here and ignored him all day." 

"I've worked hard to make him understand I don't blame him." Nate says it softly, but it still hurts. 

"It isn't his fault." Eliot knows that deep in his gut. 

"It isn't yours either." Nate responds, his hand coming to rest on Eliot's. He wants to pull it away, but can't quite bring himself to. "You hear me?"

"I hear you fine." Eliot says, though his voice is bitter. "But who else are we going to blame, Nate?"

"Why do we have to blame anyone?"

Eliot draws in a deep breath. "I know this isn't what you wanted."

"You lying in a hospital bed? No, I never did want that."

"You know what I mean. I heard you say it. You never wanted this." _Me,_ Eliot thinks, _never wanted me_. "I forced you into this."

"Is that what's going on in that thick head of yours?" Nate's fingers curl around his, squeezing lightly. "Hey, look at me."

It takes him a minute, his heart pounding, to open his eyes and look at Nate. "Are you listening? Really listening?" Eliot nods slowly. "Good. The very first time I got close enough to you to smell you, after I was turned, I wanted you. I wanted to touch you, feel the life strumming through your veins, hear your heart beating in your chest, taste the salt of your skin…I wanted to feel your body close to mine. The only thing that kept me from it was the job…and the alcohol…and the thought that maybe you'd try to kill me if I tried anything."

Nate chuckles softly. "You were…everything I craved, Eliot."

"But you still didn't want…this." Eliot gestures between them as if he could somehow make Nate understand.

Nate bows his head and seems to search for the words. "I never wanted to put anyone I cared about in the position you are in. I never wanted someone to have to give up a part of their life to be with me, to exist as a constant blood donor. I never wanted to…have someone need me…" His voice cracks and breaks apart. 

Long minutes stretch between them, then Nate clears his throat. "But, I made a choice, Eliot. You offered yourself to me and I chose to take what you were giving, I chose to give something back. I could have killed you that night, but I didn't. I could have sent you away and never given in to the craving again…but I didn't."

Eliot shifts uncomfortably, though his discomfort has more to do with Nate's words than his physical condition. "Nate…I don't need you to coddle me and placate me…I'm a big boy. I think we both know that this isn't working."

"Is that what we know?" Nate rises, crossing to the window and opening the blinds. "Here's what I know. You are a part of me now, and there is nothing that I wouldn't do, nowhere that I wouldn't go to keep you with me." He turns back to face Eliot, his face hidden in shadow. "But if you want me to go, I will. If you want it to be over, tell me now and I'll be gone before they release you."

"Nate, I—" But he doesn't really know what to say…because even though he can feel the sincerity in Nate's words, even if those words tell him he's wanted, Eliot can't really let himself believe them. 

"How about I let you sleep…and we'll talk about this tomorrow." Nate says, stopping at the end of the bed. He doesn't look at Eliot, but Eliot would swear he was crying. "You have a lot of healing to do before you go home."

 

Nate can feel the tears burning in the corners of his eyes as he walks stoically through the hospital. He doesn't move to wipe them away, but he's shaking when he finally feels the night air on his face.

"You okay?" 

She's the last thing he wants to deal with just now, but avoiding her hasn't really worked out in their favor either. "No, Sophie. I'm not."

"You want to talk?"

"No."

"You want a drink?"

"Fuck yes."

She hands him a flask and he pours some into his mouth, tasting a smooth, old bourbon. "Now that is nice." He tries to hand it back but she waves it back at him.

"Parker says Eliot is being a moron."

Nate nods a little. "I don't know. Maybe he's right. I mean…we've been together what…two months at the outside and he's nearly died twice. Three times if you count that first night. Not very good odds." He sips off the flask and considers what it would mean to leave. 

"Do you love him?" Sophie asks, leaning against the lamppost, her eyes sweeping over Nate before meeting his eyes.

"I…what?" Nate shivers, drinks to avoid the question.

"It's simple enough. Do you love him…or is this just physical?"

"I don't see how that's any of your business." He's ready to walk away, shoving the flask back at her.

"What about me then? Was there ever a time when you loved me?"

"Sophie." He doesn't want to have this conversation…not here, not now…not when he's about to lose everything he's just fought to get back. "I…maybe." He sighs and scratches at the back of his head. "Okay? Maybe…back when I was…still human, when Maggie and I…" He shakes his head. 

"See, Nate….here's the thing. If it's nothing but physical, between you and Eliot, then maybe you're right…walk away now and let him get back to his life." She stands, pushing off the lamppost and heads for the hospital doors. "But if you love him, you need to tell him before you both do something you'll regret for the rest of your life."

 

"I'm quite amazed at the progress you've made, considering you were close to dead when your friends brought you in."

Eliot shrugs and smiles at the doctor who was scribbling notes in his chart. "I've always healed fast. When can I get out of here?"

"Another day or two, I should think. We need to run a few tests, verify that you won't relapse. You'll need a few more days after that before you're ready to fly home."

"Not a problem." Eliot watches the doctor walk out, groaning when Sophie appears in the door. "I told Parker I don't need a babysitter."

"Not here to babysit, I came to talk."

Eliot exhales and pulls his hands through his hair. "I'm not interested in talking."

She closes the door. "So listen."

Only she doesn't really talk…not right away, she paces from the door to the window and back. She stops several times and looks like she wants to say something, but doesn't. 

Finally she stops at the end of his bed. "Nate loves you."

That really isn't what he'd expected to hear and judging from the look on her face it isn't exactly what she'd meant to say. Eliot crosses his arms and they stare for a minute. "He say that?"

She rolls her eyes. "He's a man…well, he's male anyway. Of course he didn't say it." She goes back to her pacing. "But I'm a woman. I see these things."

"What things?" Eliot growls, irritated but unsure why.

"Oh, you know…the way he looks at you, the way he fought for you. You weren't there to see it, Eliot."

"No, I was busy getting tortured." He wants to get up and walk away, move. 

"You should probably know something." She stops, at the window, doesn't look at him. "I…had sex with him."

Eliot's feeling very off balance with this whole conversation, his face screwed up in a frown. "Nate? You…when?"

She bites her lip and doesn't answer right away. "While you were…after you…" She sighs explosively. "He was…hurting. He was feeding and drinking, but….and I had had a few myself…and I wanted to know."

Eliot's eyes narrow, his stomach twisting around the image of Nate and Sophie. "Wanted to know what?"

"If you were right."

"Me? What? Right about what?"

She shakes her head. "I'm sorry…it was wrong and we both regret it…and he loves you Eliot. I'd stake my life on that."

His head reels as he tries to follow her. 

"If anyone should leave, it should be me."

"Wait, Sophie…just slow down. Give me a minute to think."

"You're good for him…you're a good man. Honorable." She wipes at her face, sniffling a little. "I should go. You need your rest."

She's gone before he can say anything, and Eliot is left thinking about Nate and Sophie and how quickly everything can go very, very wrong.

 

He's restless. Now that he's out of bed and in clothes that don't leave his bare ass flapping in the breeze, and now that he's had a taste of real food he can't sit still, even while they finish the paperwork. Parker sits on the bed while Eliot moves from the chair to the window. He moves slowly, but at least he's moving.

"You're sure he'll be there?" Eliot asks for maybe the fifth time. 

Parker rolls her eyes and doesn't answer.

Eliot hasn't seen anyone but Parker in the last two days. Sophie and Hardison had both gone home and Nate…well, he's pretty sure Nate's been avoiding him.

"Screw this. I'm done waiting." He gets as far as the door before a nurse with a wheelchair arrives. 

"Nice timing." Parker declares, jumping off the bed. 

Eliot would rather walk, but he knows better than to argue, so he settles into the chair and lets the nurse push him down to the lobby.

By the time they reach the hotel, Eliot is wondering what possessed him to get in a car with Parker behind the wheel. She grins at him as she parks and pulls a key card out of her back pocket. "Room 547."

Eliot takes the key, but frowns at her. "Aren't you coming in?"

"I have a plane to catch." She kisses the end of his nose. "Don't be a moron. I'll see you when you get home."

Eliot opens the door, still frowning at her as he climbs out. That left him alone with Nate, and despite the fact that he's been itching to see him, Eliot isn't sure he's ready for that. The window rolls down beside him. "Don't be a moron." Parker says again. "Get in there."

He exhales and turns to the hotel. It seems a long way to go…across the parking lot, through the lobby…but he gets to the elevator without incident. A short trip up and he's standing outside the door to the room, turning the key in his fingers. "This is stupid." He swipes the key and opens the door. He pauses just inside to let his eyes adjust to the dark. Nate is standing by the bed, drink in hand. Neither of them speak for a moment, then Eliot steps in and lets the door close. "Hey."

"Hey." Nate finishes his drink and sets the glass on the nightstand. "I was…worried."

"Paperwork." Eliot rolls his eyes. "Parker…she, uh, dropped me off."

Nate nods. "She give you the 'don't be a moron' speech?"

Eliot smirks. "Yeah."

"Yeah, me too."

"Is that what we've been doing?" Eliot asks. "Being morons?" He moves a little closer so he can see Nate's face without the shadow. "Is that why you come to the hospital, but don't come into the room unless I'm sleeping?"

Nate looks a little sheepish. "You knew?"

Eliot nods slowly. "I could feel you.”

Nate wipes his hand over his face. "I didn't want you to think I was…pushing."

"You were afraid I'd tell you to leave." Eliot corrects. 

"That too." Nate admits. Eliot's close enough to tell he's nervous, shaking.

"And now?"

"I'm still afraid you're going to tell me to leave." Nate whispers as Eliot closes the last gap. His hand slides into Nate's hair, pulls him close. Eliot's lips brush over Nate's lightly, just barely more than air.

Up until right that moment, Eliot hasn't been sure exactly what he would say, or what he wants, but somehow, seeing Nate like this makes him a little more sure of himself. "Don't be a moron." Eliot whispers softly before kissing him a little more deeply.

"We should talk." Nate says when Eliot pulls back just a little.

"I'd rather keep kissing." Eliot counters, his hands sliding down Nate's back to his ass. "Or maybe…move on to other things that aren't talking."

He can feel Nate's grin against the skin of his neck. "You're barely walking."

"So be gentle." Eliot says. His heart thumps in his chest and he's a little lightheaded as all the blood in his body heads south and his cock hardens at just the suggestion. 

Nate turns him so that Eliot's back is to the bed, guides him down. His hands slide up Eliot's thighs, to the zipper of his jeans. "You sure?" Nate asks lightly before he uzips. Eliot nods and Nate pulls the jeans down, tossing them away. He raises an eyebrow at the lack of underwear.

"Parker didn't bring any." Eliot says, holding up his hands to draw Nate down.

"Remind me to thank Parker later."

"Much later." Eliot murmurs as Nate lays against him, his cool hand sliding down Eliot's warm body to stroke his cock. 

Nate's mouth finds his, his tongue sliding over Eliot's lips before delving inside while his hand moves over Eliot's cock. Eliot lets his eyes slip closed, lets himself moan as he moves closer to orgasm, but as it builds so does an unexpected anxiety, fear. 

His body stiffens and Nate pulls back, his hand stilling. Eliot tries to fight through it, but images fill his mind, sense memory…the smell of come, the copper tang of blood on the air. His cock wilts and Eliot covers his face with his hands, curling inward, rolling toward Nate.

Nate's hands sooth over his back. "Shh…easy…it's okay."

Eliot breathes deeply. He straightens out slowly, getting back to his feet. "Fuck." The memories flash through him and he pulls away when Nate reaches for him. "I'm okay."

Nate's arms slide around him from behind, pulling him in close, his head on Eliot's shoulder. "No, you're not. But that's okay."

Eliot tries to pull away, but Nate is stronger and doesn't let him go. "No it isn't." He fights a little harder.

"Yes it is." Nate says it softly, though his arms tighten around him. "I'm not letting go."

He pulls one more time before sagging in Nate's arms. 

"After everything you've been through you're allowed to not be okay." Nate says. "I don't expect anything from you."

"Well, I do." Eliot says the words, but the bite is gone from them.

"You expect too much from yourself then." Nate presses a kiss to Eliot's neck, right over the place where he'd first bitten Eliot. "Come lay down with me. We don't have to talk or touch…just be here…with me."

 

It's two in the afternoon, and they lay side by side in the bed, hidden behind the heavy drapes that make the room feel like it's two in the morning, but neither of them are sleeping. 

They don't talk.

They don't have words to make this right, to take them back to the place where it started...or even to take them past this into a place where they're both okay.

Too much has happened to both of them. Too much has changed. Eliot's still hurting, still traumatized, the memory too fresh, the scars and marks still too visible against his skin. 

The craving burns in his stomach…the weeks since he's last tasted Eliot sharp and clear in his mind. It's worse now, with Eliot here in his bed, so close and yet still so far from him. But it isn't just the hunger. 

Nate wants more than Eliot's blood, more than just his body…he isn't ready to name it, isn't ready to say the words…but he needs Eliot to understand.

Nate turns on his side, his fingers trailing over Eliot's chest, his eyes on Eliot's face, watching for any sign that this is too much...then leans in to kiss over the faint scars around Eliot's nearer nipple...a mark Nate had left before...Eliot's breath hisses in, his eyes close, but he doesn't pull away.

Nate let's his lips linger, licks tiny kitten licks against the scar that no one but a vampire would know are there. He doesn't bite, because there's no way Eliot is ready for that...instead he's tender, letting Eliot know he still wants him, needs him...reclaiming him the only way he can for now.

Eliot's fingers thread through his hair and Nate lays his head on Eliot's chest. Slow. Small steps. A little at a time.

 

Nate is loading the bags into the rental car when Eliot emerges from the hotel. His face is hard set and Nate can feel that he's still angry. "Is there anything else?" Eliot asks as he stops beside Nate.

Nate swallows and shakes his head. "That's everything."

Eliot nods, hands on his hips. "How many?"

"Honestly? I don't know." He'd spent the day telling Eliot about the time he was gone, how Nate had coped, or didn't…about the people he'd killed, about Sophie and Genevieve…he'd talked until he'd gone a little hoarse.

"What about since…since you found me?"

Nate shakes his head. "No one…I…Genevieve set me up with a supply. It's been hard, but no one."

Eliot's eyes close and Nate can feel the anger bleed away, replaced by something darker. "Hey, no guilt." Nate pulls him into a hug. "I told you…I don't regret it."

"Not what I'm feeling guilty for." Eliot says into his chest, then pushes away. 

"No?"

Eliot rolls his eyes. "Get in the car. We got a plane to catch."

At the airport, once they've made it through security and found their gate, Eliot grabs Nate's arm, drags him into the men's room and shoves him into a stall. "Eliot--"

He cuts Nate off with a quick kiss, then unzips his jeans, pulling out his cock.

"What--" Again Eliot stops him, this time with wagging eyebrows. He rolls up his sleeve and kisses Nate again. "Eliot?"

"Don't be a moron. Take it."

"You're not ready." Nate shakes his head, tries to pull away, but the small space has him trapped unless he wants to hurt Eliot.

"Let me be the judge of that. It has to be killing you. I know what withdrawal is like. Here." 

Nate opens his mouth to argue, but Eliot pokes him in the stomach. "Okay…fine…but only a little."

"Will you just bite me already?"

Nate takes the offered wrist, licks the salt away, kisses the skin. Eliot huffs and Nate gives in, biting as gently as he can. Eliot's eyes flutter closed, a soft moan escaping him as he rocks back against the stall wall. The smell of come rises between them and Nate pulls back, pressing his thumb over the wound.

Eliot opens his eyes a minute later, the blue a little hazy, almost like he's stoned. "Better?" he asks breathless and Nate nods.

"Yeah." 

"Good." Eliot leans in to kiss him before wiping himself clean and flushing the toilet. He tucks himself in and they open the door, Eliot grinning at the man staring at them in the mirror. "What can I say, I'm a kinky son-of-a-bitch."

The man almost runs from the room and Nate laughs. "Yes, you really are."

They wash their hands and head out of the bathroom, settling in to wait for boarding. Hardison's worked his magic, getting them first class seats for the long flight. Nate watches Eliot as they board. 

The blood craving runs deep and his body wants more. His eyes skip over faces around them, some part of him categorizing them and working out ways to get them alone, but he always comes back to Eliot beside him. 

The taste of him lingers in Nate's mouth, along his tongue. It's familiar and comforting somehow. 

"You're staring." Eliot murmurs when most of the cabin is sleeping.

"Can't help it." Nate whispers back, his hand sliding over Eliot's, their fingers meshing together. "I like what I see."

Eliot flushes just a little, his head tipping back to rest on the seat. His eyes close slowly, his hand relaxing in Nate's. 

Nate watches him slip into sleep, leaning in to brush a stray strand of hair off his forehead and kissing him lightly. "I think she may be right…I may love you." He sits back, settles in, his own eyes closing. 

Beside him Eliot stirs. "Hmmm? You say something?"

Nate smiles, but doesn't open his eyes. "Sleep."

"Yeah." There's a long silence, then he hears Eliot barely whisper, "I may love you too."

Nate opens his eyes, but Eliot is asleep, his breathing deep and even. And maybe this is nothing like what he'd expected when he met Eliot Spencer…but as Nate pulls the window shade down on the rising sun outside his window, he closes the door on expectations. From here on out, everything would be new.


End file.
